Surviving Until My Last Breath
by Harry Albus Potter Dumbledore
Summary: Set during "The Hunter" episode. What if the tree disguise scene didn't happened at all? What if Kincaid knew he wouldn't win the hunt when the halfway mark had passed hours ago? Kincaid taunts Gilligan, telling him that his island family will follow soon after his death, forcing the sailor to sacrifice his life to save the others. Gilligan is the star of this story, not Kincaid.
1. The Ledge

**A/N:** Hey everyone. I want you all to know that while I'm not new to Gilligan's Island since I grew up watching it, I'm new to this fandom, I believe it's called. I never knew there were Gilligan's Island stories until recently and I instantly became hooked after reading a few. To be honest, it wasn't until I read, "Need" and "The Island Prince" by Doll Girl when I decided to watched the Hunter episode on iTunes. That's when I really became head-over-heels in love, with both the episode and Gilligan's character. I always enjoy when Gilligan saves the day or when a particular episode shows how deeply the other Castaways care for him.

Now, in my opinion, I don't consider a fic a story unless it's at least twenty chapters or more. However, I doubt I will succeed with that many chapters. The max might be ten-twelve. We will just have to see.

This story was inspired by a scene at the end of a Disney movie called, "Cadet Kelly," a few Bonanza stories here on FanFiction and, of course, the Hunter episode.

Teobi, this isn't the story I spoke to you about. However, you're welcome to help me out with this mini story as well. The other story was like pulling teeth, I had a hard time getting my thoughts and ideas on paper. I will get back to that story probably after this story is complete.

**Note:** I recently found out I and a few other people here in this fandom had been spelling Kincaid's name wrong. There's a 'c's in it, not an extra 'k's.

I don't own Gilligan's Island. Sherwood Schwartz does. I'm just having fun with his creation. This chapter is edited by my new beta Minch. Thanks for doing this for me.

Sorry for the long a/n. Enjoy the mini story.

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**Chapter One**

_Ginger: "Poor Gilligan, eleven hours and he's still running." _

_Professor: "I'd be happy if he was still alive and walking." _

_Mrs. Howell: "Or crawling!" _

_Skipper: "Yeah, well, a bullet hasn't been made yet with Gilligan's name on it. That guy'll never catch'em. My little buddy is too fast!" _

_-The Hunter _

A sound, so soft the humans would write it off as their imaginations playing tricks on them, hovered in the air. Silence was nowhere to be found at this time of day. There was always some kind of animal making noises in the jungle that the small tropical island housed or the swells of the ocean slamming against the rocks on the shore.

Another sound, the same one in fact, with a slightly louder volume floated higher and higher.

For the third time, the very same sound was heard by anyone and anything that was nearby the location. The sound became clearer and easier to decipher as the volume went up a notch each time the noise was made.

The sound happened to be a moan of pain. Obviously, someone or something on the supposedly deserted, uncharted island was hurt. How bad, no one would know for certain until she or he checked out the source of the noise. However, only the animals living in the jungle and whatever deity was watching from above knew immediately what was causing the noise and how serious the situation was.

For indeed, this was a situation. Not a minor one, as everyone had wished once in their life.

No, the level of the situation was serious. Should no animal or man start searching for whatever was causing the sound, or an animal alert one of his friend's humans about the problem, the situation could easily switch from serious to dire and dire to demise.

Unfortunately, the animals whose considered a friend was the one needing attention and his human friends were currently locked up in their old jail cell, waiting for either the time limit to be up or the sight of the youngest Castaway's lifeless corpse being carried over the hunter's shoulder. Though, the six remaining Castaways prayed with all their might that the former would happen instead of the latter.

For you see, the one called Gilligan was being hunted. Not by a dangerous animal but by a crazy human by the name of Jonathan Lee Kincaid. Kincaid grew tired of hunting animals over the many years of his chosen career and no dangerous, wild, or big game would satisfy the now-constant thirst he craved to bring the fun and interest back into hunting.

That is until his companion, Ramoo, suggested they both go searching for his next prey away from civilization and found the perfect quarry in the bumbling fool of the first mate. The hunter finally found what he had been seeking for years and the endless craving for something new and exciting had finally vanished. Hunting man was a perfect game for hunting and no one had ever done it before.

Until now, that is.

Why he hadn't thought of hunting the most elusive prey there was in the world, a human, until now he would never know. The hunter could have gone after man as his new game years ago! It certainly would have ended his boredom. However, it was pointless to look back at the past and wished you could have said or done something differently. Besides, Kincaid finally realized what his new quarry should be and wasn't going to allow any more time to be wasted.

As for Gilligan, he had to survive this mad scheme of Kincaid's for twenty-four hours. If the young sailor was still alive when the time limit was up, the hunter would bring the seven stranded Castaways back to civilization. As much as the former Navy sailor tried to see the good in everyone, even the monster that was Jonathan Lee Kincaid, he knew deep down inside that the man had no intention of rescuing them. He would have witnesses of his horrendous attempt of murder and obviously wasn't stupid enough to risk the chance of going to jail and ruining his reputation.

Which brings us to the start of our story: the moans and groans filled with pain. Knowing all the facts on why Gilligan – yes, the cry of agony could only be coming from him – was hurt would certainly be understandable once the events leading up to the situation he was currently in became apparent.

For you see, the lovable, clumsy, yet often annoying first mate was lying on a rocky ledge, coming back from unconsciousness from however long he'd been out.

The first thing the sailor became aware of after waking up was the uncontrollable shivering that made his whole body shake. Yet he couldn't figure out why the involuntary action was happening. The youngest Castaway didn't feel cold and the temperature for the day was a normal low eighties degrees Fahrenheit. So why was his body trembling like he'd been out in the snow of the coldest winter for too long?

The second thing Gilligan became aware of was the burning pain that was licking and consuming his own form. It felt like someone had put his body in a fiery pit and was continuing to build up the temperature! His whole figure hurt worse than he had ever felt in his short life, even moving his eyes and eyelids caused himself to ache, like they were attached to the rest of his hurting body.

The final thing the first mate became aware of was the rough and uncomfortable ground beneath him. While sand wasn't a bed of fluffy clouds, Gilligan didn't remember it feeling so hard and rocky from the last time he laid on the tiny pebbles.

Despite the horrible pain every part of his physique was experiencing (and he meant every part), the former Navy sailor opened his eyes and saw the turquoise ocean and sandy white beach in front of him. The youngest Castaway's forehead furrowed in confusion because the level of the beach below seemed closer than he earlier recalled as he tried to put more distance from his tormentor. He slowly closed his eyes and concentrated on the last thing he could remember before waking up, ignoring the endless pounding in his head while he did so. It felt like someone was using his head as a percussion drum. Gilligan placed what little strength he had at his disposal in figuring out the events that had transpired before he was knocked out cold.

Apparently, finding out what had happened wasn't meant to be. The limited strength he had and the new level of pain surging inside of him like a rocket forced him to give up after two minutes of trying. Just the act alone almost caused him to black out again.

All Gilligan wanted to do was lie there, wherever he was, and go to sleep. Maybe if he wasn't awake, the agonizing pain would disappear. But something or someone was stopping the young man from receiving his wish and silently prompting him to discover his exact location. So even with the terrible throbbing his entire body was going through, he slowly turned his form over, for the first mate noticed he was lying on his right side. The sailor winced and bit down hard on his lip to stifle the intense pain that suddenly erupted from the unwelcome movement.

The morning sun was gradually rising in the sapphire blue sky and its white hot rays had already found the youngest Castaway, mercilessly torturing the visible flesh with the heightened heat. Droplets of sweat rolled from his brow and other parts of his frame. The salty drops of liquid caused the stinging as they entered his cuts that Gilligan had received previously as he tried to find shelter to rest and hide from Kincaid.

Gilligan shifted his throbbing head slightly to the left and what he saw made his blue eyes widen in horror.

A rocky cliff was above him, but that wasn't the cause of such terror seen clearly in the young man's eyes. What alarmed him was the distance between the cliff edge and him. The cliff rim was at least a hundred feet above him.

A jolt of realization flashed inside the sailor's head and his earlier attempt at discovering what happened before he had passed out finally became clear. Now he really wished he could have continued being oblivious to his exact location if it would halt the panic bubbling to the surface.

The first mate had fallen over the edge of the cliff accidently with Kincaid after the hunter confronted him and provoked him with his awful words involving the other Castaways. With the help of his senses, the youngest Castaway gathered from the limited information he had that he must have landed hard on his right side on the ledge below the cliff, which saved him from instant death and was now holding him prisoner until help arrive.

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**A/N: **What did you all think? Was my first try at writing a Gilligan's Island story successful or did it stink like my cat's breath? Let me know in a review.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed twenty-two stories of Gilligan being the star of the show. Well, make that twenty-three since I will be adding this story to it.


	2. The Memory

**A/N:** Thanks everyone who read and reviewed the story. I'm happy to know everyone, other than myself, is enjoying this new twist to the Hunter episode. Your reviews mean a great deal to me. I would also like to thank those who participated in my GI poll involving the next chapter. I will mention those pennames who gave me suggestions in the next chapter since they deserved to be recognized.

**Note:** I would also like to inform you all that I change the title and summary of this story a little bit as I thought both didn't sound or fit right with the story. Finally, this chapter is a flashback/memory of what happened before Gilligan fell off the cliff. Oh, and I recently found out I and a few other people here in this fandom had been spelling Kincaid's name wrong. There's a 'c's in it, not an extra 'k's.

**Warning:** a small mention of religion and torture and hints of rape. Plus, a small part indicating a character's death. No worries, though, as Gilligan is still alive as we obviously see from Chapter One.

I don't own Gilligan's Island, But Sherwood Schwartz does. I'm only play with his characters. This chapter was edited by my new beta, Minch. Thanks a lot for putting up with my horrible grammar mistakes.

Sorry for the long a/n. Enjoy!

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**Chapter Two**

**The Memory**

_Gilligan hadn't stopped running since the last time Kincaid almost managed to get him with his bullet. The former Navy sailor was a fast runner and a very good one at that, but all of this exercise was making him extremely tired. Not to mention the lack of sleep he had the night before. Every time the first mate tried to close his eyes, he would see an image of the hunter, who was about ready to accept his prize. That prize was his dead body. However, someone from above must have been looking out for the youngest Castaway because he managed to obtain four hours of sleep in the cave where he earlier decided to rest for a while. That cave happened to be the very same one he had lived in when he decided to be a lone wolf._

_Despite the small amount of sleep and weariness, the hunted Castaway knew he had to keep running. Run like his life depended on it. Because it really did._

_A few hours ago, after he left the cave where he slept, he proceeded to pick some fruit for an early and quick breakfast. The former Navy sailor made the mistake of not observing his surroundings, because if he did, he would have seen Kincaid huddling beside some foliage, aiming his hunting gun at his target. If it wasn't for the first mate moving a few seconds before without the man knowing, Kincaid could have won the hunt right then and there. Yeah, that's how close Gilligan came to receiving a bullet in his body._

_As much as his instincts were telling him to keep moving, (they were usually right when it came to danger) the first mate had to rest for a few minutes. He had been running for hours now and his lean form made its protest known that it couldn't take much more without resting. _

_So the young man halted, his back pressed tightly against the palm tree as he sucked large gulps of air into his gasping lungs. His chest hurt from the heavy breathing that he had been doing. His lungs were now receiving the oxygen they needed to survive, but they felt like they were on fire at the moment. The lone Castaway allowed his head to slump all the way back, his lips partially opened as he fought to bring his panting under control. It was useless though, he was winded and his body was so worn out that the exhausted sailor felt as if he could not run another yard, let alone escape the deranged man who was intent on hunting him down like an animal. _

_Anyone who met the first mate briefly would probably describe him as dumb and too friendly. While the latter might be true since he made a point to be friends with everyone, the former wasn't. Sure, Gilligan struggled in school and it took him a little longer to understand something, but he was actually a very intelligent young man, once you got to know him more than five minutes. He may not be academically smart, but he was intelligent when it came to animals and nature. Because of that, he made friends with the animals instantly and knew the layout of the island as if it was written on the back of his hand._

_Now, totally drained of strength, hungry, thirsty (he never had his breakfast), and aching, the young sailor wasn't sure he was going to last the final eight hours left of the hunt. His clothes were still soaking wet when he had run through the waterfall to hide out in another one of his many hiding spots about an hour ago. No one knew about it but Gilligan. Luckily, this wasn't the waterfall they used for bathing or else his secret hiding spot wouldn't have been a secret anymore. However, his clothes were the only thing wet now, unless you count the moisture on his hot and sweaty face. Somehow the water managed to seep in his shoes as he hastily went through and was now sloshing around inside, making his feet damp and sore. The former Navy sailor pulled the tail of his red shirt from the waist band of his light blue jeans and leaned against some rough rock, trying to dry the perspiration from his face._

_A gunshot was heard close by and the youngest Castaway's head snapped up, his eyes frantically searching for any movement that might alert him to any danger. But there was nothing for him to see because the first mate was still behind the waterfall and the water wasn't clear enough for him to see through. Despite Gilligan being safe at the moment in his well-hidden spot, he froze against the rocky wall, ears perked up, listening intently for any footsteps or other sounds signaling him that someone was coming._

_Gilligan didn't hear another sound for quite some time, so he thought he was safe again. However, just to be on the safe side, he was going to be overly cautious and keep a good eye out for any movement around him. After all, Kincaid could be lurking behind more foliage or a tree, preparing to shoot at him again._

"_I better get a move on or else Kincaid will _really_ find me here," the young sailor said aloud to himself, putting a stop to the reminiscing that he had been doing for the past few minutes involving the waterfall._

_The first mate gave one last look at the palm tree before taking off once again in the jungle. His legs ached, the bones in his knees seemed to tighten up on him, and it was all he could do to keep going forward. Determined to escape the hunter that was probably a few miles behind him, Gilligan pushed on with the hunt. _

* * *

_**(An Hour Later)**_

_**-7 hours left -**_

_After drinking some fresh water and eating a banana and mango, the youngest Castaway sat down in the white sand and leaned his back heavily against one of the several large boulders surrounding his new hiding spot. He laid his hands on his thighs and took a few deep breaths. He was resting at the moment, which was risky. Every minute the sailor was stationary was an extra minute in which Kincaid could discover him. _

_Gilligan's life was on the line, even more now he was resting. However, the first mate knew he wouldn't make it much longer without the nutrients and liquids his body was demanding urgently to have. So the former Navy sailor found another spot to hide and rest, which – lucky for him – happen to be one of the few areas where the water was fresh. _

_He filled up the canteen he had stolen from the hunter earlier when the man was resting on a knoll and quickly took several mouthfuls of the delicious water. After, the youngest Castaway capped the container and set it down beside him before taking the fruit he managed to grabbed a few minutes ago and hurriedly consumed the food. Now that he had liquids and food in his system, he was feeling a little better. Not much, but enough to energize him for a small amount of time._

_Suddenly, a shot loudly rang out, nearly clipping Gilligan on his left arm. The sailor searched for the source of the noise around him, but saw nothing as he quickly moved behind the boulder for cover. Once he was safely behind the huge rock, the youngest Castaway inspected his left extremity. The bullet had ripped the long sleeve on his shirt, but other than that as he rolled up the left sleeve from his limb; the shot had done little damage to him. The first mate allowed a long sigh of relief to escape from his mouth and was just about to take off again when the sound of Kincaid's voice stopped him in his tracks and made his blood freeze inside his veins. _

"_Hey, Gilligan!" the hunter called out mockingly. "I thought you could do better than this! You have really disappointed me during this hunt, letting me get close enough to you almost every time." _

_The youngest Castaway heard the man laugh. It was a sinister sound that almost caused him to lose his recently consumed meal and made the hair on the back of his neck and arms stand up. "This is what I will do. I'll give you another head start, but this will be your last safe card. Use the extra time wisely, kid." The sound of his footsteps as they crunched whatever was beneath his boots traveled to the sailor behind his rock. The hunter was close. As to how close, he didn't know without checking, and Gilligan was smart enough to know the man wouldn't hold back should a body part become visible. "I will count to fifty. You have until then before I shoot again. This time, Gilligan, I promise you I won't miss. I'm counting now: One, two, three…"_

_The former Navy sailor jumped to his feet, grabbed the canteen, and began making his way through the foliage growing in the jungle. He ran as fast as he possibly could, intent on putting as much distance between himself and his pursuer as he could. In his haste in getting away, the first mate wasn't paying enough attention to completely avoid the palm fronds and bushes and felt them as they snagged his clothes. Instead of the small prick one would feel should they get poked by a branch or thorn, Gilligan felt like they were ripping his skin apart as they tore harshly at the fabric of his red shirt and the flesh of his body. However, the sailor paid no attention to the uncomfortable pain._

_Both sleeves and pants legs were now ruined and the youngest Castaway could feel the drops of blood as they seeped slowly down his appendage, yet he never took the time to look. Fear, not only for himself, but for the lives of his island family – because Gilligan considered them to be more than friends – forced him to push ahead. _

_He had two goals. The first was to, at all cost, survive until noon, which was still less than seven hours away. The second was to protect his family by continuing to run and, when the time came, try his hardest to be a buffer between Kincaid and the other Castaways. The young sailor knew once the man got him, he would soon go after his family, instantly breaking his promise of only hunting one of them. Or should Gilligan somehow survive this horrible ordeal, he doubted the hunter would give up the chance to shoot one of them, even when the time limit was up. _

_No, he must protect his island family. He would willingly pay any price in order to keep them safe from harm._

_Even if it meant giving up his life for them._

* * *

_**(Fifteen Minutes Later)**_

_**-7 hours and 45 minutes left- **_

_Gilligan's speed was slowing down greatly as fatigue was setting in, yet he forced himself to keep running. The beads of sweat from running dripped down his forehead and into his ocean blue eyes, causing his vision to blur. He quickly wiped his face clean, but it didn't do much good in the end. More droplets of perspiration ran into his eyes soon after the first._

_The former Navy sailor continued to push on. Before he knew it, the trees and plants weren't hiding him anymore and, as the first mate looked over his right shoulder, saw the thick foliage and the jungle behind him. Since he was so familiar with the island, which they have been on for almost three years now, the youngest Castaway knew he was near the cliffs and only a few miles away from the lagoon and camp. His breathing was labored, his lungs burned and his legs and feet felt heavy and sore from all the running he had done lately._

_A sound of a rifle going off was heard somewhere in the distance. The sailor could hear the bullet flying through the air before it found its target. Gilligan dropped the canteen and fell, the leafy green grass covering the top of the cliff preventing him from becoming hurt worse and stopping any noises his form would have made as he hit the ground. The first mate lay dazed, the wind knocked out his burning lungs before intense pain exploded in his arm, snapping him back to his senses. He grabbed his left extremity and cried out in anguish as both pain and blood spread rapidly. This time Kincaid's bullet didn't miss and, from the looks of it as the youngest Castaway examined his arm, the bullet was imbedded deeply in his limb. _

_Gilligan lay on the ground for a minute, sucking in much-needed air to fill his deflated lungs and hoping it would lessen the horrible pain somewhat. It succeeded in the former but failed greatly in the latter. _

_As he tried to rise to his feet, the pain from his wounded appendage sent daggers of agony throughout his already-hurting and tired figure. The young sailor moaned loudly in pain and hot tears welled up in his eyes, but they never fell. He may be hurting, but the young man adamantly refused to show his weakness to Kincaid. The guy was a monster and the former Navy sailor wasn't going to allow the hunter to use his weakness against him. _

"_Please, whoever is listening right now, help me. My family needs me to be able to get through this alive and I know I can't make it much longer. I'm tired, so tired," the first mate prayed, whispering the words so his tormentor or anyone else nearby wouldn't overhear him. The former Navy sailor wasn't a religious person, but that didn't mean he was an atheist either. He believed in God and His works, he just didn't practice as often as he should. But right now, Gilligan needed help and the only person who could help was Him. Besides, praying couldn't hurt him any worse than he already was._

_He slowly and gently hauled his frame up from the ground, trying his best to ignore the hot flare of pain speeding through his arm and, in the end, his whole physique. Furthermore, Gilligan tried his best to ignore the warm, wet, red fluid flowing from his wound and falling on his pants, sneakers, and the ground, but he wasn't having much luck, especially when the sticky body fluid began seeping into his clothes. _

_The first mate shakily stood on his feet and quickly surveyed his surroundings, freezing like a statue when his eyes caught sight of his tormentor casually leaning against a palm tree and staring at him with a wicked smirk on his face. Kincaid let out an evil laugh and the sailor's heart skip several beats as the man aimed his gun directly at him. _

"_Well, Gilligan, it seems like your time is officially up," Kincaid taunted the Castaway as he strutted closer. "You have nowhere to go, and now I must end the hunt…by killing my prey."_

_The young man wobbled dangerously on his feet, all energy he had left inside draining away instantly and causing him to be on the verge of collapsing. "You're crazy," Gilligan stated with a rare sign of anger heard clearly in his voice. "You won't get away with this. Once the others find out you've killed me, they won't let you leave the island alive, I can assure you of that," he said confidently, hoping the fury in his voice was completely covering the fear he was feeling. The first mate didn't want the man to know he was afraid of Kincaid, especially now that he knew his time on this island was almost up._

"_You're wrong, Gilligan," his tormentor replied with excitement and bloodlust in his eyes, making the youngest Castaway sick to his stomach. "I will get away with this…because there won't be anyone to rat me out. Oh yes," Kincaid continued on with a wicked laugh that increased in volume when he saw the frightened expression that accidently appeared on the young man's face, "I can see the answer in your eyes and you're correct. Once I'm through with you, I'm going after your friends."_

_While the hunter was making his little speech, the former Navy sailor was inconspicuously edging around him, so his back wasn't facing the cliff that was only a few feet away. Kincaid didn't seem to notice Gilligan's subtle movements or the fact that his own form unconsciously kept turning with the sailor's, making sure he was facing the young man and not the rocky cliff._

_Whatever blood was left in the first mate's face was certainly gone now along with any color, leaving him pale and terrified at his tormentor's new revelation. The former Navy sailor had hope and prayed fervently that, should the man managed to get him, he wouldn't go straight after his island family. Instead, he hoped (which was in his nature to do)that the hunter would immediately take his companion and depart from the island, never once looking back at his family or the hurt and destruction he callously left behind. _

_But now…now his worst fear was being confirmed. Gilligan was afraid, not so much for himself – his time was up and he accepted that his death was near - but the lives of his family who he deeply cared about. The young sailor never told the other Castaways this, but he looked up to them. Actually, there were so many things he wanted to say and now wouldn't have the chance to. Like how he wished he had the Professor as his teacher during his school years or having such amazing parental figures in Mr. and Mrs. Howell and the Skipper. The sailor wished he could tell Ginger that she was the first movie star he had met in person and how much of an older sister she was to him. And Mary Ann, sweet Mary Ann. How he wished he could tell her that she was the sweetest girl he had ever met and that he treasured their friendship above all the gold in the world. _

"_I'm going to let you decide, Gilligan."_

"_Let me decide on what, exactly?" the young man asked in confusion._

_Kincaid rolled his eyes in exasperation before answering the former Navy sailor's question. "On who should go first, dimwit! Do you think that big oaf of a captain should be the first one with a bullet in his heart? Or maybe one of the blue-blood rich couple with a lovely hole between the eyes?"_

"_Shut up," the first mate whispered, horrified at what the man would possibly do to his family. His form trembled in alarm, disgust, and exhaustion as the rifle was still pointed at his heart._

_But the hunter didn't hear him as he was lost in his sick fantasy of what killing the other six members of the Minnow would look like and how each would meet their demise. After all, there was more than one way to end a life._

"_What about the Professor? Should he go first? Maybe have him undergo a session of torture by me and ending the lesson with the help of a few bullets in his head. That should deflate that big brain of his," the man continued on, mocking the young man with his future plans._

"_Stop it," Gilligan said a little louder, irritation emerging in his voice, yet the sick man still didn't hear him, despite there being only several inches between them. The young man's eyes sought Kincaid's, the haunted look in those deep brown eyes disturbed him tremulously and the image seared itself in the former Navy sailor's memory for the short time he had left._

"_How about the two girls, hmm? Maybe you would like them to go first, save them from watching their friends die in front of them." Kincaid paused, head cocked to the side with a thoughtful expression on his menacing face. He focused his attention back on the young man several seconds later with a glint in his evil eyes. "You know what? I think I might just torture all of them before killing them, and I assure you, Gilligan, their deaths will be slow and painful as possible. As for the movie star and the farm girl, I think I will shoot them last, but not without having…some fun…with them first. Just imagine, Gilligan, the terrified looks on their pretty little faces, knowing I will have them and no one would be able to save them from me. And maybe I could…" But the hunter never got the chance to finish his sentence._

_In that instant, the first mate charged at the man, catching him off-guard for a few seconds. Little did either realize in that moment the small distance between them and the edge of the cliff as both had their focus otherwise occupied. "SHUT UP, I SAID!" Gilligan yelled, enraged as he plowed head first into his tormentor, knocking the man and Gilligan's white sailor hat to the ground, the gun still in its owner's hand._

_The hunter quickly stood up and prepared himself, ready for the young man this time. Once again, the former Navy sailor charged at Kincaid. Only this time a few things were different than the first. For one, the man didn't fall and hit the ground as the young Castaway attacked him with physique and right fist. Another was that both men were dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. This time as the sailor punched his tormentor in the abdomen, causing the hunter to lean forward in sudden pain and grab tightly onto the young sailor's injured limb, which made Gilligan gasped in pain. The final thing that was different was that rocks broke apart under Kincaid's feet, causing him to fall down the cliff's rocky side, there was the sound of a rifle firing and the hunter's extremity still attached to Gilligan, forcing the young man to plummet over the cliff with him._

"_AGHHH…!" Their blood-curdling screams hung in the air as they fell to their deaths and after barely three seconds later, a loud thud and ripping sound was heard along with the sickening sound of bones breaking. _

_The first mate's last thought after the right side of his head slammed into a sharp rock, causing his vision to blur and tiny black spots to appear, was of his island family, his love for them, and his last goodbye._

_His vision went dark and Gilligan left the world of reality behind probably for the last time as he succumbed to unconsciousness._

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A/N: Don't kill me, please! Like I said in the above author's note, Gilligan is **not** dead, it's just seems like he is. In Gilligan's mind, he thinks this is his last time on Earth, and that he will wake up in Heaven. However, we all know that he will still be on the island when he wakes up. Please review and let me know what you think of the story or what I can do to improve/fix it and any errors. Oh, before I forget, please give me suggestions in a review or pm on what Gilligan would be interested in learning from the Professor should he survive his injuries and escape from his rocky prison.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed twenty-three stories of Gilligan being the star of the show.


	3. The Aftermath

**A/N:** Surprise! Two chapters in a week. I either love you all or my muse is willing to work with me on this little story of mine. Actually, I think it's both. Now don't get used to getting fast updates. I'm afraid the next one won't be posted for a while since I'm getting ready for finals at college and attending my sister-in-law's graduation in May. Plus, I now have a Beta for this story. Yay! And they need time to get caught up. So I hope this chapter satisfies you for the time being.

I would like to thank all those who participated in my poll for this story. I would also like to thank **dabzzygirl**, **K9grmingTwihard**, **Teobi**, and **Magenta-Skye** for their suggestions on what injuries Gilligan received from his long fall. If I missed your name, please let me know and I will put it up with the others.

**Note:** I'm not a doctor or have a job in any medical profession nor have I broken anything in my body. I have done as much research as I can on Gilligan's injuries in order to make this story as realistic as possible. If you have more knowledge of these injuries and I put down something wrong, please let me know and I will fix it. Furthermore, I don't know how many injuries you have to sustain or how serious they have to be in order to be life-threatening. Because of that, Gilligan's condition might not be as realistic as I would like. And for that, I apologize.

**Warning:** One or two mentions of God and probably one graphic image of one of Gilligan's many injuries.

Finally, I don't own _Gilligan's Island_, But Sherwood Schwartz does. I'm only play with his characters. This chapter has now been edited by my beta, Minch. Thank again.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**The Aftermath**

_Oh my God! _was the only repeated thought in Gilligan's head as his ocean-blue eyes stared in horror at the high cliff above him. His heart was thumping wildly at not only discovering the long distance he fell, but the recollection he now had of what happened before he went over, making his chest hurt and breathing difficult.

_Okay, don't panic, Gilligan, _he silently told himself. _Whatever happens, _do not_ panic. Panicking won't help the situation you're in._

To halt the panic that was still rising despite the young man's command, he focused his attention away from the cliff. The first thing the first mate needed to do was examine himself. By doing so, he would see if he had sustained any injuries from his long fall.

Now that the young sailor had something to keep himself busy with, at least for a short while, he started with his legs. His eyes locked on his lower limbs, as well as he could see by lifting only his head up a few inches. Gilligan didn't wait to risk moving around without making sure everything was in working order, so only his head shifted so he could carry out the self-imposed task.

The youngest Castaway first moved his right extremity a little, taking note instantly that everything appeared to be fine from what he could see in his current position. No horrible pain. No unnatural bends. No blood. Nothing. Just bruises of various sizes showing up on his appendage, seen through the holes of his light blue jeans.

The first mate knew better than to be prematurely relieved as he still had other parts of his body to check over. If there were no other injuries after his self-examination, then he could allow the relief he felt to show. However, the former Navy sailor needed to continue and hopefully find out why his form was still trembling like crazy despite the high temperatures.

Next, the young man shifted his left leg slightly. The moment he did, burning pain soared up his limb, causing him to gasp in surprise and discomfort. From what he could see through his torn and shredded pants leg and current position, his left extremity was in an awkward angle it shouldn't be in, the bone visibly pressing against his fair skin. The sight made Gilligan slightly sick to his stomach.

Obviously his appendage was broken. How many breaks, the first mate didn't know and wouldn't know until help arrived for him. Besides, he very much preferred not to look at his injured leg any more than he had to. The young sailor wished to keep what little food he had in his abdomen rather than expelling it and any remaining energy he had left. Luckily, there was no blood around his limb, which meant there were no cuts, scraps, or gashes. However, the lone Castaway did see several ugly bruises forming on his flesh.

Gilligan decided to check his arms next after looking at his legs. Since the former were closer than the latter, all he had to do was turned his head sideways to see instead of raising his head. The first mate's head shifted to the right and spotted the unnatural shape of his shoulder.

He had a dislocated shoulder. The injury probably happened when his right side slammed into the ledge from such a long height and rapid speed, causing his shoulder to pop out of its socket. The first mate bit his lip hard (thankfully it wasn't injured, but probably would be by the time he got off this ledge) to stifled the groan as pain flared up every five seconds around some part of his form. Unfortunately, the young man wasn't able to stop the wince when the next round of hurting came his way.

Furthermore, Gilligan saw the thin, shallow cuts and scrapes in various sizes covering the skin heavily from the palm frondsand bushes he had unsuccessfully avoided earlier. Only a small amount of blood trickled out of the cuts and the cuts appeared to have stopped bleeding a while ago. Ugly bruises were beginning to show on his fine skin, causing the young sailor to stop and wonder when he had received them during the hunt. He certainly didn't remember bumping into any rocks or anything that could create those nasty things. And you think a person would, especially from the looks of how unpleasant and painful they were.

_Unless, _he thought as realization hit him,_ he didn't get those bruises during the hunt but when he fell and that's why he couldn't remember. It was possible he could have hits some rocks on his way down._

Then he turned his head to the left, feeling the sticky substance of blood before seeing it as the vital life source continued to flow slowly from the bullet wound in the middle of his forearm. Now that the former Navy sailor's memory of the hunt had come back, he remembered examining the arm wound before the event at the cliff occurred. However, the injured Castaway still looked at his left extremity, noticing the small hole and the increasing pool of the red body fluid on the rocky ground. His appendage was littered heavily in shallow cuts, scrapes, and bruises with small amounts of dried blood sticking unpleasantly near the areas where the flesh was open.

A bit of fluid slowly trickled down from the first mate's forehead, down his nose until it dropped to the side where the substance approached the tip. That's when the young man discovered that the substance was blood. After his startling find, more of the blood appeared, sliding down his nose, under his eyes, and down across his paling cheeks.

As the young Castaway's left arm rose shakily in the air, intending to move it to his head, his entire figure shook violently once again. After the shivers halted, a wave of confusion, dizziness, and pain surged through him and lasted only a few minutes. If the sailor wasn't adamant on finishing the examination of his physique, he would have lost the fight against the lightheadedness and fainted straightaway.

Once the spell of dizziness was over, yet the pain continued to rage on, Gilligan focused (or tried to focus as best as he could with whatever was wrong with him) on the task he set for himself a few minutes ago. However, his plan was stopped once again, by himself this time. Something on the tips of his fingers caught the first mate's eye and he turned his attention to it. Immediately, he noticed his fingernails were bluish and his arm was pale, cold, and clammy.

The young sailor didn't know what was wrong with him, but had a feeling that whatever it was it couldn't be good. _And why, _the Castaway thought before pausing as another tremble of cold and pain racked his frame, _am I shaking like a leaf in a windy day? Why am I bleeding from my forehead? What happened to me? Did I cut my forehead when my head landed on the rock and that's why I'm seeing blood? And why am I cold in eighty degrees weather and having such a hard time breathing?_

His extremity finally reached his forehead and his digits shifted gently around the area, trying to find the cause of his bleeding. The search didn't last very long. About thirty seconds later was when he received answers to some of his questions. Above his right eyebrow was a wide and deep gash, which was where all the blood was coming from. Furthermore, the first mate felt a few small cuts on the left side of his face and dampness on his skin.

The sailor's head began to pound in tune with the pain and shivers, forcing the young man to inform the world of his agony by moaning loudly. Even though he was in horrible pain, though most of the time he wasn't trying to show it, Gilligan resumed his examination, hoping to finish soon because the strong feelings to vomit and faint had appeared once again.

Fighting off the urge to do either of the aforementioned things, the first mate slowly and gently shifted his left appendage down from his forehead, over his face and neck, and finally rested on his chest. Excruciating, almost consuming pain erupted where his hand gently lay; causing him to gasp out sharply, his breaths shallow since breathing was difficult at the moment.

_Actually, come to think about it,_ he observed, _I haven't breathed normally since I woke up on this awful ledge._

He realized he had trouble breathing a few minutes ago but assumed the reason was the terrible pain bothering him every few seconds and would return back to normal soon enough. But he still wasn't breathing properly and the simple action cause agonizing pain in his chest. Even an idiot, which some people thought Gilligan was, knew what those particular symptoms meant.

_Great!_ the young sailor thought somewhat bitterly. _Just what I needed, I could possibly have broken or bruised ribs. Or could the ribs be dislocated? Can that even happen? What more injuries could I have?_

In his short twenty-one years of life, the lone Castaway should have known by now that your bad fortune would increase with that single phrase. And fate or whoever it was that controlled that type of thing proved just then that saying that simple phrase really did make things worse.

As Gilligan lowered his hand down towards his stomach, he felt something…weird …that caused his insides to churn. His fingers first touched a small hole made in the front of his shirt. While the first mate toyed nervously with the frayed edges of the fabric, his digits came in contact with a sticky, wet substance surrounding the area of the circle. It was also flowing down and off of him. Ever since he started his self-examination, the former Navy sailor had quickly become accustomed to what blood felt like.

The young Castaway tried to shift the material a little, to find out what occurred and why his shirt had a circle in front of his belly, but the shirt wouldn't budge as it was glued to his flesh with dried blood. He gave up on moving the fabric since the movement pulled at his skin, causing unnecessary discomfort to him. Instead, he anxiously slid two fingers through the circle of the material and felt as they came in contact with his white skin. The young man slowly moved his fingers around on his flesh, searching.

That's when his digits came upon something so…so horrible and frightening that he would never wish on anybody, even his enemies if he had any, with the injury he recently found. If his situation on the ledge and the injuries he discovered wasn't serious enough, it was now. Perhaps dire even.

The first mate knew from where his fingers laid on his abdomen that he wasn't touching his bellybutton, though he fervently wished he was. Anything than what he suspected was the cause of the hole in the shirt and blood flowing from his stomach. However, his wish wasn't granted and he wasn't touching his bellybutton. Besides, why would his bellybutton bleed?

What the former Navy sailor assumed he was feeling was something very, very abnormal and sickening. As much as he didn't want to confirm what he suspected, he knew he had to find out. So with an unpleasant mix of sickness, alarm, and pain raising inside him, the young man lifted his head from the ground and glanced down at his abdomen. If the other Castaways saw Gilligan at that very moment, they would have seen expressions of disgust and horror on his sweaty face, a green tint to his skin, and the young man mentally distancing himself from the urgent situation.

His head came in contact with the rough ground beneath it not even a minute later. The first mate turned his head to the right and threw up whatever was left inside his stomach, finally losing the fight. The involuntary spasms from puking caused the pain to intensify, overwhelming him and forced him into unconsciousness.

For the young Castaway saw something that he thought he would never see. That he had hoped to never see.

When Kincaid's gun fired for the last time as they both fell off that cliff, the hunter wasn't the recipient of the bullet. No, the sailor received that honor. Or was it dishonor? Depends on whatever side you looked at it. Anyway, he discovered that the final bullet which discharged from the rifle ended up in the lower part of his abdomen. And not only did he see copious amounts of blood, but he also saw slivers of something visible from the wound. Probably muscles, a vital organ, or something equally as important that was found in that area.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the cave where the rest of the Castaways were locked up in their own jail cell, silence was pressing down upon them like a heavy boulder. No one uttered a word in the last hour or so as each member was lost in his or her unhappy thoughts. Of course, their depressing thoughts didn't stay in the cave with them, but traveled with the seventh member of their little group as he try his best to beat Kincaid at his own sick little game.

The six Castaways felt utterly helpless with the horrendous situation that was befalling Gilligan at the moment. All of them would have given anything if it meant they could escape their jail cell and aide the first mate during the hunt. But they couldn't and they were stuck there in the cave until either the twenty-four hour mark was up or…God help them…Kincaid showed up with the young sailor slung over one of his broad shoulders, lifeless and cold.

All they could do right now was wait and hope. Hope that the youngest Castaway of the shipwrecked _Minnow_ would overcome this awful hunt and any obstacle that may come in the near future. Hope that their spirits were with the former Navy sailor so he wouldn't have to be totally alone in this awful ordeal.

But most of all, the others hoped that once this nightmare was over, they could deal with whatever damage the hunter inflicted on Gilligan. The six members weren't idiots; they knew that this nightmare was far from being over. Actually, it was just beginning. Making sure the young man was physically fine wouldn't take very long. But when it came to an emotional and mental state, well that was a whole different story. Finding any problems in the two states could take days, weeks, possibly months to figure out. Not to mention, discovering and applying the right cure to whatever problems the first mate may have.

Until the rest of them were with the loveable sailor, they didn't know what they were dealing with. But they hoped that whatever it was, no matter how long it may take, all of them would get through this together without losing Gilligan to himself in the rough road ahead of him.

Hope and wait.

That's all they could do.

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A/N: How did I do? I thought this chapter was a little boring, especially as I wrote it. If you thought the same then I'm sorry. The next chapter will be better, I promise. More insight into the other Castaways will be shown in the upcoming chapters. However, you won't see them until chapter five, though.

Please review and let me know what you think of the story or what I can do to improve the story.

Announcement from _Panhead13_: There's almost 400 stories in the GI fanfiction archive. When I first checked it in February or March, it only had 316 fanfics. I was thinking it'd be cool if we could have 500 fanfics on this site by the 50 anniversary of GI this year. I'm calling it the "500 by 50" challenge.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed twenty-six stories of Gilligan being the star of the show.


	4. The Hunter That Couldn't Hunt Anymore

**A/N: **I would also like to thanks my beta, Minch for once again doing a great job with editing this chapter. I don't own _Gilligan's Island. _Unfortunately, Sherwood Schwartz does. If I were the creator, I would have did the whole Hunter episode differently. However, I'm only allowed to play with his characters.

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**Chapter Four**

**The Hunter That Couldn't Hunt Anymore**

Gilligan awoke to the sounds of the waves coming from the turquoise ocean as they crashed down upon each other and topical birds screeching and cawing loudly in the palm trees. He could smell the saltiness of the water as it floated on a breeze coming in his direction. The first mate tasted lingering remains of the fruit he had consumed earlier and something else on his tongue. His brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to name the unpleasant taste left over in his mouth.

The answer came like a bolt of lightning in a severe thunderstorm, resulting in his eyes snapping open. Only for the young sailor to shut them tightly several seconds later because the golden yellow ball of heat blinded him. He waited a minute, the bright light slipping through his close eyelids before slowly opening them again, giving his eyes plenty of time to adjust.

A faint look of confusion appeared in the Castaway's eyes as a grimace of pain and nasty flavor remained on his slightly parted lips. He noticed the sun has risen a little in the cloudless blue sky, but couldn't remember glancing at it earlier. The former Navy sailor felt like he had "lost time" or something. He couldn't really explain it with words, it was just too difficult.

Gilligan did know he blacked out after he discovered his stomach wound. He didn't know how long he was out, though. But before he went unconscious, he puked up his food and water beside him, if the horrid smell and memory was correct. He also recalled pretty much everything else that happened earlier, besides the time lapse, of course.

A wince crawled up his slightly battered and bruised face. As sweat dripped into his cuts and eyes, a burning sensation emerged. Unfortunately, the first mate couldn't wipe all of the moisture away since the liquid appeared every few seconds and the repeated movement would tire him out fast. Furthermore, he didn't know if he had broken, dislocated, or just bruised his ribs. And how many ribs was it? So he didn't want to move around too much and risk a rib or two puncturing a lung or something equally as important. Most of the time, all he could do was blink his eyes several times in a rapid fashion and try to ignore the sharp stinging feeling.

The obviously injured Castaway swallowed hard as his gaze landed on the edge of the cliff above him. He didn't need to glance around to know he was alone, which bothered him greatly. He knew without a doubt that even if he wasn't badly injured, escaping from the ledge was still impossible. The former Navy sailor didn't have a rope and the distances upwards and downwards were just too far apart for him. Add his numerous injuries to the mix and you have a task that was completely impossible to achieve.

The first mate's thoughts raced wildly. _How do I get out of here? I'm a few miles from camp and the others can't help me until they are free from jail, however long that might be._

His heart beat rapidly with fear; the fingers on his right hand touched the puddle of blood growing beside him and the rocky surface of the ledge that held him prisoner. Gilligan felt the hot pain that ran like shock waves up and down the length of his body. The young sailor was paralyzed with fear. Fear of what could possibly happen to him before he was found. A violent shiver raced down his body, causing him to gasp in agony. The involuntary reaction had forced his injured frame to move and set off the pain. Well, not really set off since the agonizing pain appeared every few seconds, but it did feel like the pain went up another level. The lone Castaway swallowed down the rising bile that collected in his mouth while his abdomen rocked like a stormy sea with nausea.

The first mate continued to pant, still struggling to take deep breaths. He knew one or two of his injuries were the cause of his shallow breathing along with the chest pain. The lone sailor had numerous injuries and symptoms to deal with. And frankly, he was surprised to see he wasn't in Heaven like he had thought he'd be when he woke up. Instead, he found himself still stuck on the ledge, badly injured, with no help of any kind available for who knew how long. The youngest Castaway had a wristwatch on him and could check the time. Unfortunately, his watch was on his right wrist and broken, the glass smashed on impact and mingled with the red substance and puke. The parts were scattered and lost. So glancing at his watch was out of the question. Plus, he wasn't even sure he could look, what with his dislocated shoulder and all.

A substance of some sort caught the former Navy sailor's attention when it dropped from somewhere above him and landed on his shirt-covered abdomen. The substance mixed with the sticky blood that continued to seep out of him. Another droplet of whatever it was landed on him. Then another came, and another, and another. The droplets of substance were constant, always appearing thirty seconds, and from the same direction, somewhere above him.

As more droplets rained down upon the first mate, he strained his eyes to get a better look and decipher what the substance was. At the moment, Gilligan just knew it was fluid and red.

A low groan was heard close to him, but the young sailor couldn't figure out where. He knew the sound was nearby since he could hear it perfectly, like the noise was right next to him or above him.

Silence surrounded the Castaway then. Well, almost silence since he could still hear the sounds of the ocean and animals. However, the quietness was completely shattered about a minute later with a slightly louder moan filled with pain. A wave of confusion washed over the first mate after hearing the agony in the sound and observing another droplet of red fluid falling on his stomach.

This time, the sailor traced the path of the droplet with his blue eyes, beginning with his stomach before going upward. Up, up, up, his eyes went as more of the unknown droplets went past him. As the sun shone in his eyes and his head almost completely straight, the youngest Castaway found the source of the droplets.

The sight he came upon wasn't pretty, causing the nausea to rise inside him, crawling up his throat.

A branch hung twenty feet above him on the side of the rocky cliff, no leaves were on it. And appearance-wise, the branch looked to be dead, probably for a while now. Hanging over that branch was a monster. The being was a monster because he was too evil and twisted to be considered a man, a human being. This was the same monster that had hunted and tormented him for the past eighteen hours.

Kincaid.

His tormentor's body hung in front of Gilligan and only a few feet away. Because the hunter wasn't hanging directly above the first mate, he was unaware of the additional presence, especially when he stared at the brightly lit sky.

The former Navy sailor couldn't tell since he was at an angle, but from the amount of blood falling from the hunter's form and the discoloration of his skin, Gillian suspected a limb on the branch had pierced his tormentor's flesh on impact and hit something vitally important.

Instead of the hunter killing his prey in cold blood, it happened to be him that would end up dead.

It was ironic, really. Or would you call it karma?

Either way, Jonathan Lee Kincaid would never be able to hurt him, his family, or anyone else again. While Gilligan wasn't happy that the hunter was dying, (he was certain of the fact since Kincaid was losing a ton of blood) he was greatly relieved that another innocent person wouldn't have to be in his shoes, forced to be a part of this twisted and sinister little game.

The droplets of blood brought the first mate's attention back to the situation at hand. He now knew what the substance was and where it was coming from. The young sailor's eyes widened in horror and disgust at the realization of just where that blood was landing. He didn't want the filth that was Kincaid's blood mixing with his or even coming in contact with his body.

The thought barely crossed the young man's mind when he once again turned his head to the right and vomited. This time, only a small amount of bile came out since Gilligan didn't have a lot of food inside him. The unwelcome action forced his broken and injured form to shake with the tremors and the dry heaving, causing more burning pain to slice through his chest.

A creaking noise emerged, floating in the air.

But the youngest Castaway was too busy gasping breathlessly while his figure rocked with shivers and pain, heart beating at a swift pace.

A loud cracking noise hovered in the air above him, but the first mate was still distracted, once again fighting against the blurriness that appeared in his vision and the overwhelming feeling to faint.

Another loud cracking noise was heard, followed by a snapping sound. A sound of a heavy body connected with another rose in the air followed by a heartbreaking scream.

"AGH!" the former Navy sailor screamed out in pain as Kincaid fell on him, slamming into his many injuries. Blinded with agonizing pain and fright, he used his good leg and the minimum amount of body movement to shift the hunter off of him, causing his tormentor to turn and disappeared from the first mate's sight, falling once again. The gun, which was resting on the lip of the ledge, was right behind Kincaid as one of his lower body parts accidently hit it while falling for the second time.

Several seconds later, a loud thud and the sound of bones breaking was heard, informing the young sailor that his tormentor had made direct contact with the sandy ground below. The lone Castaway didn't know the exact distance he was from the ground, but knew without a doubt that the impact had most likely killed Kincaid.

At least now the hunter's filthy blood wasn't dripping on him anymore. And the monster could no longer haunt the young man with his presence either.

Gilligan laid his head back down and stared aimlessly at the sky, waiting for the other Castaways to come look for him.

* * *

**Thirty minutes later**

**(6 hours and 15 minutes left)**

"Skipper? Anyone? Help!" Gilligan called out as loudly as he could, which wasn't in the deafening category with the volume that emerged from him. It was no surprise to the first mate though. How could a person be loud enough for someone to hear him when the caller had a difficult time breathing correctly?

The lone Castaway tried to be patience for help to arrive. But as time slowly went by, that patience was quickly evaporating along with the slightly calm state he held onto. Every minute that passed is a minute closer to Death. From the amount of blood he continued to lose, the meeting with Death seems quite near.

While more time went by, the more Gilligan wanted to do something. Anything that could help him get out of this horrible situation. He couldn't just laid there silently and do nothing while he bleed to death. He had to do something. So he did. He called out to the others. The young man knew it was a waste of energy and breath, but he just couldn't take doing nothing any longer. He _had _to do something or else he would have gone crazy.

The sailor inhaled as deeply as he could, which wasn't much, trying to relieve the unbearable pain in his chest. Sweat beads covered his forehead and cuts, and flowed like a rushing river down into his eyes and face. The dislocated shoulder on his right arm had ignited an excruciating session of twinges that ran from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. The youngest Castaway gritted his teeth to keep from crying out.

His eyes left the ledge where he was lying and went up, attempting to see the outer rim of the cliff, but the sun's position had moved again, blinding the former Navy sailor from seeing the outline of the cliff.

_So much blood, _the young man thought in alarm as he observed the substance on and around his figure, and halfway covering the ledge. _I could bleed out by the time help arrives. _

That last thought caused him to shudder in fear at the idea of dying alone from blood loss on this rocky ledge. The first mate never imagined he would die this way. Of course, Gilligan never thought of where he would be when he died. He had always assumed the place would be somewhere familiar and comfortable with family and friends close by, ready to tell him their final goodbye. Gilligan never thought about being stuck on this ledge during his final hours or about being on this uncharted and deserted island. However, he wouldn't complain if his island family was surrounding him as his time came closer and closer.

Maybe his family will find him before it was too late, which hopefully won't be much longer. Not the dying part, but the part where his family was with him. Since the young sailor couldn't check the time on his watch, he had to resort to figuring out the time by using the sun. And if he was correct as the young man observed the position of the sun in the sky, it has already been a little past an hour and a half since he had been stuck on this ledge. The former Navy sailor gulped; it would be hotter soon as the sun rose, and he already was dripping with perspiration. And he was cold…or was something else causing him to sweat and feel cold? Could the coldness be his fear that caused him to shiver?

Whatever it was, the first mate didn't want to leave his family without saying one last thing to them. Unfortunately, none of them were here with him to hear it.

"Please, God…I'm not…asking for…a lot," Gilligan spoke softly, directly upwards. "Give…me something…so I can…let my…family…know how much…they mean…to me…should they be…too late."

A miracle happened as soon as he finished his last sentence.

When the first mate's form trembled with cold, he heard something metal crashing again the rocky, hard surface before seeing a heavy and lumpy outline in his left pocket. He didn't know how the item got into his pocket, and at the moment he really didn't care. Later on when he's healthy again or in Heaven, he might stop and pondered the event. For now, he was just going to let the matter slid by.

Biting his lip as a scream begged to escape from inside, the injured sailor slowly moved his left arm and reached down towards his pocket. Apparently the level of pain from the wound went up another notch since the last time he moved his extremity. With perspiration and little black dots in his eyes, he couldn't see at first what his hand pulled out. Touching the item wasn't accomplishing anything either. The few things the lonely and scared Castaway could tell by feeling the item was its rectangular shape, the cold metal covered, and the item had a few buttons on it.

He pulled it closer to his shoulder and when his vision finally cleared up a few minutes later, the former Navy sailor turned his head to the left and looked down at his hand. There, in his palm, laid a blood-stained tape recorder that was very familiar to Gilligan. That tape recorder was the very one he, the Skipper, and the Professor found on Tongo a few weeks ago. He wasn't really an apeman, but an actor who was playing as one so he could get the part for an upcoming movie. The film would launch his career and make his very famous and rich were he to get it. How the first mate had it now instead of where it was at camp, he couldn't understand. But he was very thankful for it, especially now that he could record his final heartfelt words to his love ones.

With nothing else to do but wait (either for help or to die), the sailor pressed the record button on the machine and closed his eyes. As long as he held onto life as tightly as he could and kept surviving till his last breath, he was sure he would be alright. The youngest Castaway didn't want to die but knew he couldn't stop it. However, he would rather leave this rocky ledge, topical island, and beautiful Earth knowing he hadn't freaked out (even though he was frightened like a chicken inside) than show his fear to whoever was watching him from above.

His breaths were short and shallow since he couldn't inhale deeply.

_Professor, Skipper, Mr. and Mrs. Howell, Ginger, Mary Ann, please hurry, _the former Navy sailor thought, silently pleading for their presences. _I need you here with me._

Gilligan opened his mouth and whispered these words with parched lips while torturous pain surged through his frame. "This is…William…Alan…Gilligan…and…in case…I don't make…it, these are my…final words…to you, my…island…family."

* * *

**A/N: **You know what to do. Send me a review and tell me what you thought about this chapter.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed thirty-three stories of Gilligan being the star of the show.


	5. What the Future Might Bring

**A/N: **Hey, sorry for taking so long to post this chapter, I was trying to get ahead in the story. I did managed to finished Chapter six so after I get it through the editing process, then you should have it sometime this week. The latest would be around the 15th. I just wan to mention that Gilligan's Island 50th anniversary is coming up at the end of September and some of us authors are trying to reach 500 stories by that time. We currently past 400, but we still need 96 more stories in order to achieve that goal. I'm participating in this mission and soon will have another small story out. Please help us in making our goal a reality.

**Note:** I'm not really happy with this chapter. Since this is my first time writing a GI story and the first time involving the other Castaways, I found myself struggling to writing this chapter. Therefore, I'm sorry if the characters are out of character and sound like robotic instead of humans. Writing Gilligan only is much easier. Also, I have another GI poll up on my profile. It's has nothing to do with this story, however. I'm just curious to know who is the most popular character from the show. So please, take a minute and vote.

**Warning: **a scene involving people praying.

I would like to thank **Doll Girl** for allowing me to borrow the praying scene, the sleepless night and battle fatigue idea from her stories "_**Need" and "Stories." **_I would also like to thanks my beta, Minch for once again doing a great job with editing this chapter. Oh, and **Morgan, **I would really like to give your friend some advice on her story, but for some strange reason, I can't access the site. Sorry, for not telling you sooner.

Finally, I don't own _Gilligan's Island. _Unfortunately, Sherwood Schwartz does. If I were the creator, I would have did the whole Hunter episode differently. However, I'm only allowed to play with his characters.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**What the Future Might Bring**

Mr. and Mrs. Howell, Ginger, the Professor, and Mary Ann were all silent, lost in their own little depressed worlds as their eyes stared aimlessly in front of them. While the four were deep in their thoughts, the Skipper stood at the front of the cave, quietly watching every step Ramoo made. None of the stranded members were speaking. As a matter of fact, it had been hours since the last conversation. Since then silence had been given an open invitation to spend however long it wanted with them.

The remaining Castaways weren't trying to be rude to each other. They weren't giving each other the cold shoulder or isolating themselves as some sort of revenge or punishment. No, the stranded members were just lost in their thoughts and memories. The captain of the S.S._ Minnow_ was contemplating deeply, trying to remember anything he had learned about Kincaid that they could use to their advantage. So far, he had no luck.

As for the others, they were silently recalling the conversation they had had with the Skipper several hours ago when darkness was still upon them.

* * *

"_I'm worried," Captain Jonas Grumby, who was also known as the Skipper, admitted to no one in particular while staring up at the full, white moon in the inky, black sky. _

_Roy Hinkley, who was also known as the Professor among the Castaways, raised his head slowly from his hands and wearily rose from his seat on the bench. He walked to the mouth of the cave where the bars of the jail cell stopped him and where the old sea dog was standing, his large calloused hands encircling the bamboo poles. _

_The intellectual stood beside the captain and wrapped his own hands around the poles, as he fixated his sight in front of him between the gaps of the bars. "I know you are, Skipper," the scientist replied quietly, not looking at him as he spoke that statement. "Honestly, we all are about Gilligan."_

_The captain of the S.S. _Minnow_ nodded his head in acknowledgement of the scholar's words, showing the man beside him that he was listening even when it seemed like he wasn't. The heavyset man sighed in frustration as his anxious, baby-blue eyes turned away from the beautiful sight of the glowing moon to his companion. "I'm also scared," he announced bravely, having enough courage to admit when other men couldn't or wouldn't. _

_The man of science gave up on seeing through the darkness and flora, somehow hoping to find Gilligan so he could reassure the others and himself that the young man they all cared about was alright. He knew such a thing was scientifically impossible, but his heart didn't care at the moment. The knowledgeable man even ignored his brain as it continued to point out every reason that the wish was ridiculous and unachievable. _

_He sighed helplessly, glancing at the captain before gazing at the starry night, wheels spinning rapidly in his head as he formed his next response. But his sea-loving companion beat him to the punch and continued on, like there wasn't even a pause between his two sentences. "Yes, I'm scared for_ my little buddy! _But that isn't all of it. I'm terrified of what I will find once we get out of here."_

"_What do you mean, Skipper?" Ginger asked in a confused tone, joining the conversation between the two men. _

_The old sea dog released the bamboo poles from his tightening grip and spun around, facing the other four Castaways. The four were all sitting down with various expressions of sadness and helplessness on their faces. "What I mean, Ginger, is the state we could find my little buddy in," he answered, his muscular back leaning against the poles as he folded his large arms across his broad chest. "Being hunted is bound to traumatize him once this hunt is over. When Gilligan _survives_ this, because I know deep in my heart he will, the road before him will be long and hard. Probably for all of us as well."_

_The science teacher put his two cents in then. "You're speaking about battle fatigue, Skipper." It was a statement, not a question. The Professor switched his attention from the darkness of the sky to his other cellmates as he twisted around and began pacing the length of the cave off to the side._

_The heavyset man nodded his head mutely, even though he didn't need to. The intellectual knew he was correct and knew what the man was talking about. After all, the man of science did have a master's degree in psychology and battle fatigue fit in that category. _

"_What is battle fatigue?" Mary Ann inquired nervously, eyes switching from the two men as she fiddled with her hands in a restless manner. Mr. and Mrs. Howell and Ginger also wanted to know the answer as well._

"_You might know it as shell shock, Mary Ann. I have seen it several times in the war."_

_The Professor halted in his pacing and faced the group. "The Skipper is correct. However, I would like to expand on his answer. Battle fatigue, which is also known as shell shock, is a psychological disorder caused by extended exposure to active combat, or in Gilligan's case, a traumatic experience or event."_

"_So you're saying, Professor, that the poor boy could have this horrid disorder," Mrs. Howell spoke up for the first time since the conversation started, fear mixed with worry seen clearly in her crystal-blue eyes._

"_I'm not stating he has it, Mrs. Howell. I'm merely saying that he _could _obtain the disorder after the hunt is finished."_

"_What can we do for the dear boy should he have this…this battle fatigue?" the millionaire questioned the Professor. He was willing to do anything if he could have the young man that he and his darling wife considered a son back, alive and healthy._

_The intellectual rubbed his chin in thought as he carefully formed his answer. "Should Gilligan have the disorder, he will need plenty of time and support. I'm positive that giving both won't be a problem for us. There's more we can do, but we don't need to worry about this right now. Gilligan could just as well slide pass and not have a delayed-stress disorder."_

"_I really hope so," Mary Ann said with a worried expression on her beautiful tan face. Just then, they heard a gun firing a few times a couple of miles away and cringed at the horrible noise. The women began crying and the men wore grim expressions, tears shining brightly in their eyes which threatened to fall. They all knew what the gunshots could mean for their youngest member, but hope like all the other times that Kincaid missed once again. After all, the man wasn't dealing with an ordinary animal. He was dealing with Gilligan this time._

_Mary Ann, who was holding onto the movie star tightly while sobbing, released her and wiped the remaining tears from her beautiful face, before kneeling down in the sand._

"_Umm…Mary Ann," Ginger called cautiously as she too wiped the salty liquid from her gorgeous face. "What are you doing?"_

_The Kansas girl at first didn't reply. She bowed her head and folded her hands while her pale, red lips moved, silently pronouncing the words. "I'm praying, Ginger," she replied simply a minute later, head still bent to the ground. "I'm praying that Gilligan comes through this alive. Praying is the only thing I can think of that will make me feel like I'm doing something to help him."_

_The movie star didn't say anything more to the farm girl. Instead, she copied her roommate's posture, all the while ignoring the sand on her stunning long, peach dress and the uncomfortable ground beneath her knees. And instead of folding her hands together like the Kansas girl, Ginger offered her hand to her, wanting to join hands. Mary Ann's head rose from its bowed position and her doe brown eyes switched from the actress' hand to hers for a moment. The movie star gave the farm girl a small forlorn smile which her roommate returned before slowly taking her hand, linking the two together._

_The rest of the Castaways watched the awe-inspiring scene before them in utter silence, each wondering what would occur next. It was like a dominos effect. Mrs. Howell extracted herself from her husband's strong, loving arms and gently lowered herself beside the farm girl and connected hands. Her husband followed right behind her without question. The captain soon went next and then finally, the scientist. _

_The six Castaways formed a circle, linked their hands together and bowed their heads, beginning to pray for their youngest member. They prayed for hours, even when the loud sounds of gunshots were going off and their legs went numb from staying in that position for so long. They prayed fervently the first mate was alright. But most of all, they prayed that he would come out of this horrible nightmare alive and physically unscratched. _

* * *

"Six hours and fifteen minutes left," Ginger announced, depressed as she glanced at her wristwatch.

The six Castaways were all siting down on the benches around the cave. One of them yawned every few minutes which cause a chain reaction with the other five. They were all yawning because none of the remaining Castaways slept during the night. They were all too worried about Gilligan to rest. Even if they did sleep, their concerned thoughts involving the first mate would probably transform into nightmares. And they certainly didn't want to see the sailor covered in his own blood and lifeless. Not in their nightmares and certainly not in reality either. Furthermore, it felt wrong to rest while the youngest Castaway's life was in jeopardy. And, of course, every time the six of them heard a gunshot, they jumped and then waited, worried out of their minds with questions that involved the young man.

_Is Gilligan alright? Did he get hit? Is he still running? Did he somehow manage to sleep last night? Has he had any food or water during the hunt? _

Of course, these questions were just a few out of hundreds that were circulating in the Castaways' minds. But the most important question that kept appearing in their thoughts was: _What kind of condition will we find Gilligan in once this is all over?'_

The six members didn't have the answer to that particular question or the others before it. They had no idea what they would face in the hours to come. The Castaways had no knowledge on how long it would take the former Navy sailor to be normal again. Or as normal as a person could be after surviving such an awful event like being hunted by a madman.

None of them had any knowledge of the future, especially when it concerned the first mate. And honestly, that was what scared them greatly. Not knowing what to expect in the future.

* * *

"It's quiet," Mary Ann announced suddenly, being the first one to break the silence in hours. "There haven't been any gunshots since we last heard them over an hour ago."

The Professor's mind spun like a toy top, silently doing some calculations in his head to see if it really _has _been over an hour. Finally, he said about a minute later, "She's right. I don't like how quiet it has become."

"Do you think Kincaid finally got him?" The Skipper asked to no one in particular while trying to hold back his tears, his captain hat being wrung roughly in his hands. He knew his first mate could outrun the man, but maybe the hunter pulled a trick or something on him, resulting in his possible death.

The intellectual went to the front of the jail cell, where the old sea dog continued to stand. "If he had, Skipper, then Kincaid would have already brought Gilligan back here by now, ready to show off his new trophy to us."

"True," Ginger agreed with the scholar's words. "I wouldn't put it past the horrible man to come back and gloat, just to see our sadness and pain."

Mr. Howell had one arm wrapped around his wife's shoulders and the other rubbing his chin in contemplation. "That madman is still searching for the boy. He hasn't caught Gilligan yet. So that barbarian who calls himself a man is either sauntering through the jungle or setting up a trap and hiding out like a coward until the dear boy comes along."

"Oh, this is so unfair!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed in frustration. "What has the poor boy done to that evil man to deserve this?"

The scientist placed his back against the bamboo poles as he faced the other four Castaways while the heavyset man resumed his watching of their guard, with his ears still listening to the conversation behind him. "Nothing, Mrs. Howell. Gilligan did absolutely nothing to provoke Kincaid in doing this to him."

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, how was the chapter? Give me your honest opinion but please don't flame me. I hope as more time goes on that I will become better at writing the other castaways, especially the Professor. It will just time, practice and reading.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed thirty-three stories of Gilligan being the star of the show.


	6. Hallucination and Warning

**A/N:** Here is another chapter for you my wonderful readers. Sorry for not keeping my promise, I have a family situation on my hands. But don't worry, nothing too serious and the situation is over. I just wan to mention that Gilligan's Island 50th anniversary is coming up at the end of September and some of us authors are trying to reach 500 stories by that time. We are currently past 400, but we still need 96 more stories in order to achieve that goal. Please help us in making our goal a reality.

**Note: **One of the other Castaways will be showing up at the end of the chapter. No, it isn't time for the rescue scene. Please look at the first word of the chapter title and you will understand what I mean. Also, there are a lot of ellipses in this chapter to show you how difficult it is for Gilligan to talk, not to mention speak. Hopefully, the chapter won't to too difficult to read. You can either read the dialogue with the ellipses or without, it's your choice. Finally, I put a few lyrics from a country song called, "**That's Love" by Matt Kennon **in the story. It's in the dialogue.

**Warning: **Gilligan and some of the dialogue might be a little OOC.

I would also like to thanks my beta, Minch for once again doing a great job with editing this chapter.

I don't own _Gilligan's Island. _Unfortunately, Sherwood Schwartz does. If I were the creator, I would have did the whole Hunter episode differently. However, I'm only allowed to play with his characters.

_Gilligan opened his mouth and whispered these words with parched lips while torturous pain surged through his frame. "This is…William…Alan…Gilligan…and…in case…I don't make…it, these are my…final words…to you, my…island…family."_

**Chapter Six**

**Hallucination and Warning **

**(5 hours and 45 minutes left)**

"Awww…" Gilligan moaned, biting down once again on his pale red lips so he wouldn't cry out his pain. His lips were losing their color because of the huge amount of blood that was escaping from his lean body. And the lack of color was a sign that the young man had some serious medical problems that needed to be treated as soon as possible.

The reason the first mate stifled his sound of pain (not just now but in the past few hours) was because he wanted to spare his family. He didn't want his family to know he was in serious pain, and maybe spare them from the guilt he knew they would probably feel after locating him and switching on the recorder. However, as much as he tried to keep his sounds of agony hidden, there were plenty of times when he couldn't stop them from slipping between his lips.

The tape recorder the sailor recently found in his pocket was beside him and on, recording every word and sound he made, which is why he stifled the moan from earlier. Despite the device being mostly covered in his blood, the tape recorder was working just fine, the young Castaway noted happily.

"There is…so much I…want to…say to you…guys. But…before I…do…that, I should…explain where…I am and…what happened," the young man struggled to get the words out. His breathing was forced; each breath he took drained his dwindling strength just a bit more. He knew he should be saving the remaining strength he still had instead of talking, but he just couldn't do that. He couldn't just lay there on that uncomfortable, rocky ledge and wait, keeping quiet until someone came along. He just couldn't! Besides, this was his one chance to tell the other Castaways what occurred to caused him to land on this ledge and give his final goodbye in case he should die before rescue.

"It all…started when I…ran out…of…the jungle," the former Navy sailor began, telling his story in the direction of the tape recorder. "I was near…the cliffs…and only…a few miles…from camp. At that…point…I was…tired…hungry…thirsty…and hurting…from all…the…running."

The first mate fought to stay awake, to survive, but the lack of oxygen in his starving lungs was leaving his weak and drowsy. To keep himself from going unconscious again (because he didn't know if he would ever wake up once he did), he continued to talk, despite the act leaving him with limited strength. The first two times he succumbed to unconsciousness, he really couldn't stop it from happening. But now that he was wake and waiting, he was trying to prevent it from occurring again.

"It was…by…the cliffs…when…I… got shot…in the…arm…by…Kincaid. I…had never...felt such…intensity of pain…as I…did until I…received…that bullet."

"When I…was getting up…to…leave, Kincaid…showed up," Gilligan resumed on with his tale after he paused for a minute and licked his lips, begging for a drop of water to wet his mouth. The hot sun above him was slowly drying up any liquid from him, both internal and external. The first mate tried to swallow but his mouth had become so dry that it was nearly impossible. "He said…some…words…taunting me…with them. I…said some…words…back…to…him."

Gilligan remember what he and the hunter said to each other but chose to withhold that tidbit of information in order to spare his family, or at least the women from the horrified plans. However, he had a strong feeling they would fish for the information at a later time and wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Then," the lone sailor's voice cracked with pain, "then Kincaid…began to…goad me…with his next…words. He…told me…about his…future…plans…he had…once…I was gone. He…he was…going to…go…after…you…guys. He told…me…all the plans…he had…in…_store for you_." This time the young Castaway's voice broke with emotion as he spoke about the taunting and terrible plans the hunter had for his island family. At the time, the first mate felt fear gnawing at his insides for his family while his tormentor listed off all of his evil plans after Gilligan's death. That fear was still there but abated slightly now that Kincaid couldn't hurt anyone else anymore. Now his fear was what the future would bring for the rest of the Castaways when he was gone.

Gilligan felt his lean frame shudder for about the hundredth time in the past few hours. He was cold to the bone thanks to the breeze that continued to float in his direction and the profuse sweating. He felt the hot rays of the golden sun beat down upon him, yet the coldness became the most prominent out of the two. As his flesh boiled under the sun, the rest of his physique was shivering with coldness. He tried glancing upwards once again but when he moved his head, everything began to spin. Quickly, the first mate shut his eyes tightly, willing away the dizzy feeling in his head and the sick feeling in his abdomen.

Once the young sailor was sure the dizziness and sick feeling were gone temporarily, he slowly opened his ocean-blue eyes and moved his head to his left side. His lips parted and soft words fill with emotion appeared, floating in the direction of the recorder. "I couldn't…let…him set…his horrible plans…in motion." Tears of emotion filled his eyes but never fell as he thought of the important reason why he couldn't allow Kincaid to continue with his evil plans. Well, one of several reasons, that is. "I don't…know…what your…thoughts are… on the…issue…and I hope…I don't…make…you mad with…this, but I…I consider all…of you…family…to…me.

"I…love you…more than…life," the youngest Castaway said before licking his dry, cracked lips to wet them. "That…that's why…I did…what I did. I told…Kincaid to stop…telling me…his…plans for…you…a few times …but he…didn't listen. He wouldn't…stop. That's when…I…charged at him. We fought…awhile, not…realizing until it…was…too late…that we…were…too close to…the…cliff's edge. The second…time…I went…after him, Kincaid…fell down…the…cliff but not…before bringing…me…with…him. And I….ended…up here…on this rocky…ledge," the first mate finished telling his story. From deep within his chest, a loud groan gurgled up into his throat and escaped through his lips as excruciating pain hit his form.

Gilligan focused his attention back to the recorder once the pain decreased a little but it never really left him altogether. "I…sacrificed…myself, I think…the word is, for…you all. I sacrificed…myself…in your…place. I did…it…so you wouldn't…have to…experience….Kincaid's sick plans…for you. I did…it…so…you wouldn't…have to…feel the pain. I sacrificed…myself…for…love, your…love. I…put…you guys before…myself. Honestly, I…would…give up…anything and…everything… for you, just…so you…could all…live. That's…why…I put…my life…at risk. For love…your love."

"Oh, God!" the first mate cried out, as hot white pain surged throughout his form for what was probably the thousandth time. "It's hurts! It hurts…so dang bad!" The pain was like ten thousand pounds of excruciating agony piercing every cell in his body – each screaming out to him in torment. The hurting was everywhere. He would try to concentrate on one small site of pain, try hard to control it, capture it, make it go away, and then he was hit by another strong tidal wave from his leg, his arm, his shoulder, his chest, or his stomach.

It was relentless, until the seventh member of the group felt as if he didn't have a figure anymore, just a vessel of pure pain. He became the pain. As it washed over him again and again, panic was beginning to set in for the young sailor. He began to freak out because he thought it was almost time for him to go, to leave the tropical island and head upwards in the sky, when he hadn't finished all of what he wanted to say in the recordings. The first mate could almost sense Death as it lurked in the shadows made from the bright light of the sun, watching him from the darkness and waiting for just the right moment to step out, showing itself and claiming its victim.

Exhausted, wet, cold, hungry, thirsty, and hurt, the former Navy sailor bit his lower lip with his teeth as he suffered under another torturous pain. When the agony left him for a few seconds, Gilligan said out loud to no one in particular, "I need…to close…my eyes…and rest. Maybe I…might get…back…some of…my energy…if I do…that." He lay still for a moment, not even moving his head as his pale eyelids slid close.

Then the first mate heard a masculine voice saying, "Gilligan, you need to stay awake. You have a concussion. It's dangerous for you to fall asleep. If you do, you might not wake up again."

Blue eyes blinked open in surprise at the unexpected voice. The lone sailor shifted his head and looked upwards, searching for the source of where the voice was coming from. The voice which sounded like the Professor's was nearby. But as the young man look around him, he didn't see anyone. So where was the voice coming from?

"Professor?" he croaked. "Professor…is that you? Where…are you? Please help…me. I'm stuck…on this…ledge…and hurt. Please, get me…out of here!"

The young Castaway spotted the intellectual standing near his feet. His muscular arms were folded across his chest as his electric-blue eyes connected with his ocean-blue. His sandy brown hair was neatly combed, his light blue button-down shirt and tan khaki pants pressed and clean, his sports socks with a red and blue narrow stripe on the top were pure white, and the laces on his dark blue tennis shoes were tied in a bows. The man didn't show one sign that he had been staying in a dirty cave for almost twenty hours.

"Professor, please…help me," the former Navy sailor begged.

"Stay awake then, Gilligan," the scientist commanded him. "That's all you have to do, stay awake and fight. You'll be fine if you do those two things. We will be with you soon, I promise."

Gilligan closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them again, the Professor was gone. He must have been dreaming. With the man of science's warning running through his head, the young man forced himself to stay awake and fight.

To fight in order to see his family once again.

* * *

**A/N: **You know what to do. Send me a review and tell me what you thought about this chapter. What are your thoughts on the hallucination of the Professor and his warning to Gilligan? Hopefully, the encouraging words will keep Gilligan going until he is rescue.

Below are the descriptions of the eye colors already mention in the story from a website called, **" ."**:

(Gilligan) The shade of blue from the ocean.

(Skipper) I tend to picture baby-blue eyes to be a light, faded true-blue (that is, only blue with no overtones from other colors on the spectrum).

(Professor) Electric-blue eyes are a pale to medium bright-blue. They are a true-blue (no overtones from other colors in the spectrum) and are extremely bright, energetic, and striking.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed thirty-three stories of Gilligan being the star of the show.

Next chapter will feature another visit from one of the six Castaways and Gilligan will give his final words to the other Castaways with the recorder.


	7. The First Message

**A/N: **My muse is really loving me this week, thus you have a new chapter in less than a week. I should mention that we are coming up to the rescue scene. I just wrote a scene with Ramoo in the next chapter that will start the chain reaction, leading up to the big event. Unfortunately, we still have two more chapters after this before the rescue scene can take place. However, I promise we will get to it soon. I would like to thank two reviewers for warning me about using song lyrics in the story. I intended to put two more in the story, the last will be in the format of the first, and then I won't put any more in. Just please don't report me or else you will have an upset writer and some very angry readers on your hands.

I just wan to mention that Gilligan's Island 50th anniversary is coming up at the end of September and some of us authors are trying to reach 500 stories by that time. We are currently past 400. I don't exactly know how many more stories we need to reach the goal because apparently the filter has been giving me a wrong number. Anyway, please help us in making our goal a reality.

**Note: **A small mention from the episode, **Gilligan vs. Gilligan **is in this chapter. Also, I really like the plot line of Gilligan's father poor treatment of him that **Doll Girl **has going on, so I'm going with it in this chapter. Gilligan is still hallucinating, so he will be seeing another Castaway at the end of the chapter. There are a lot of ellipses in this chapter to show you how difficult it is for Gilligan to talk, not to mention speak. Hopefully, the chapter won't to too difficult to read. You can either read the dialogue with the ellipses or without, it's your choice.

**Warning: **Might need tissues. It's going to be emotional in this chapter.

This chapter was edited by my beta, Minch. Thanks again for putting up with me and my many mistakes. And sorry for the two long author's notes.

I don't own _Gilligan's Island. _Unfortunately, Sherwood Schwartz does. If I were the creator, I would have did the whole Hunter episode differently. However, I'm only allowed to play with his characters.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**The First Message**

**(4 ½ hours left)**

William Alan Gillian allowed a grimace of pain to cross his ashen face while a sigh of relief floated from his dry mouth. The expression of discomfort was for the burnt red skin that cooked under the fiery rays of the golden-yellow sun. The sigh was because the hot star had just hidden behind some fluffy white clouds, giving him some relief from the heat and light. A headache was forming inside Gilligan's head and the bright sunlight wasn't helping him in eliminating it.

The first mate had another reason behind the exhale of reprieve. The movement of the sun went higher and higher in the sky, meaning that time was continuing to past. How much, the young man didn't know. But it felt like a lifetime to him.

As time trickled down slowly, the hope the young sailor held inside begin to weaken. The longer he stayed there on that ledge, the closer he was to seeing Death. Furthermore, the chances of him being found by his family before his time was up were becoming smaller and smaller by the minute.

Just as the youngest Castaway had felt the last bit of hope die, the mirage of the Professor had appeared at his feet. At first, the former Navy sailor thought the intellectual's presence was real and he would finally be rescued from his rocky prison. However, after he had received the warning and promise, he realized the scientist wasn't with him anymore. There were two simple reasons for that. First, he must have passed out and didn't realize it until now. Or he was seeing something that wasn't really there.

_What was the word the Professor told me a few months ago when I saw that Russian spy who looked exactly like me? _Gilligan thought, furrowing his brow as he tried to recall that big word he'd learned. A light bulb flickered on when the word came to him. _Oh yeah! Now I remember: hallucination. I must have been hallucinating when I saw the Professor. But he seemed so real to me. Shouldn't something like that show obvious signs that it isn't real? And if I'm seeing things that aren't there, what does that mean for me? Am I more injured than I first saw? Will an angel come for me soon to take me up to Heaven?_

The first mate was getting a little sidetracked. The hallucination was at first a comfort to him and caused hope to grow in the young man's heart. But now that he understood what he had seen, he quickly became alarmed because of what was usually associated to a person who saw hallucinations. A person going crazy in the head was one of them.

Lying on this ledge had been the longest time of his life and the situation had been the most frightening. He had been on the verge of giving up, of succumbing to oblivion and never waking up. But then the scholar had showed up and save him, like all the many times before.

With each hard earned breath, the sailor feared it to be his last. The pain throughout his body was becoming more unbearable by the hour and the difficult process of breathing correctly was fueling the panic inside him. But what amazed him as he fought to stay conscious were the images of his island family that danced before his stinging eyes and the voices that seemed to come from nearby, urging him to hold on. Soft, muted whispers that gave him encouragement along with the promises of rescue, if only he'd wait for them. And wait he did.

The youngest Castaway blinked away the slight burning sensation of the sweat as it continued to dripped down his face and into his eyes. He would wipe most of the salty liquid away but some of it still managed to get into his eyes. Once the burning had stopped, he opened his eyes and look upwards toward the rim of the cliff, hoping to see a familiar face. Disappointment shown in his pain-filled eyes once he saw no one was there. Was he hallucinating again?

"Hurry…guys…please," the young man murmured as he lowered his eyes from the edge of the cliff. "I'm trying…but…I don't know…how…much…longer I can…hold on."

A minute later, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds and shone its rays onto him. He winced, very uncomfortable as his reddish skin began to hurt more. The stinging of the cooked flesh had intensified when the hot star made another appearance in the sky. Well, the level of pain coming from his skin could just be his imagination, but to the former Navy sailor, it certainly felt like the pain had rose up another notch.

* * *

**(Twenty minutes later)**

**-4 hours and 10 minutes left- **

Tormented sounds floated on the wind as Gilligan cried out, the pain hitting him from all sides. He had continued to sweat profusely, causing him to shiver with cold whenever the breeze would come his way. The trembling would then start up the agony he felt all over his body. Then he had the sunburn that continued to get worse.

All the first mate wanted to do was get away from the excruciating pain that invaded his form over and over again. Ever since the pain intensified, he wanted to move his figure, to twist and jerk, to arch and writhe on the ground, do anything that would help him relieve the hurting he felt. But he couldn't move. He had to remind himself that he was badly injured and moving unnecessarily could result in more injuries or cause the ones he already had to get worse. So the young man lay as still as humanly possible and moaned loudly when another wave of pain washed over him.

Ever since the sailor had been stuck on this ledge, he had been longing for home. The home he wanted wasn't in Pennsylvania any more. Home was this uncharted desert island he and the other Castaways had all been exiled on. Home was back at camp with the six people he considered family. However, his wish to be any place but where he currently rested was in vain, as were the sounds that spewed from his mouth. For there was no one around to hear his cries and come help him.

The youngest Castaway was miles away from home and the family he loved more than life itself. And his family couldn't help him, not right now at least. He had been left alone in his suffering ever since he landed on this ledge and it would take a miracle to get him out of his current predicament.

Gritting his teeth, Gilligan turned his head back to his left side, demanding his mind to ignore the pain that ravaged his frame and focus on recording another entry. Earlier, he had turned off the device after the Professor had showed up so he wouldn't waste the batteries or tape on silence. But now that he was ready to speak, he pressed the record button to start once again.

"Hey, it's…me again," the first mate began in a hoarse voice from lack of use. He then let out a dry humorless chuckle which he regretted immediately when excruciating pain shot through his chest because of the thoughtless action, "Of course, you…already knew…that…since…it couldn't be…anyone else…but…me." The young sailor paused, his shallow and uneven breathing being picked up by the recorder as he tried to think of what to say next.

Then an idea came to Gilligan and he knew right away what to say. "In case…I…should die…before…you get here, there…are…a few…things I need…to say…to you all. Words…I wished…I would have…said to…you…earlier…instead of…in my… final moments," he had to stop for a moment as pain flared up inside him and a groan escaped from between his thin lips.

"To the Skipper: I…want…you to know…that I never…regretted…that day…when I pushed…you…out of the…way…of a…falling…depth charge…on that ship. For…the first time…that I…can remember, I…felt good…inside… because I'd save…a person's…life…and didn't…screw up. It seems like…I'm always…messing something…up…or making…someone…mad at me. I…don't…mean…to, honest! But it…has always…been this way, ever…since I was…a little kid. I guess…no matter…where I…go, I will…always…do something…wrong…or make….someone upset…with me. I'm used…to it."

The youngest Castaway shivered again. In the next instance, he felt as if his entire body was on fire. His mouth craved for water and his stomach begged for food. His skin pleaded for relief from the hot sun and his form wished to halt the pain and suffering it had to endured for many hours.

The former Navy sailor resumed a minute later, "Anyway, I'm…very thankful…for the act…because…it started…our…friendship…that day. You have…always…been there…for me…whenever…I…needed…you. I always…knew…I had you…to back…me up, to protect…me…from those…bullies…in the…Navy. You have…been the…anchor…that kept me…grounded…in every storm…I…went…through, whether…it was…figuratively…or literally. It…didn't…matter, you…were…there."

Gilligan knew that if he ever wanted to get off this ledge alive, he would have to keep talking so he wouldn't fall asleep; possibly not waking up if he allowed himself to succumb to the darkness. Glancing down at his feet, he was faced with another possibility: that he'd die where he lay. The thought that he might never walk again churned in his gut and left him with a new kind of fear that he'd never experienced before.

The first mate lowered his head back onto the hard, dried rock and shifted it in the direction of the recorder, opening his mouth to speak again, "I never…told you…this…but I…defended…you against…my father…and a couple…of…recruits…when we…were in…the Navy. I told my…father…about you…the night I…saved your life. I told…him…there was…going to be…a ceremony…for me…and a medal. His…response…to the news…had been…several…rude…and colorful…words…that I won't…repeat. But he made….you…out like…you were…stupid…and weak…instead of…the strongest…and bravest man…I knew. You are smart. You have…taught me…more about…the sea, and…ships, and surviving…than any…body I know. I…would like to…thank…you for that. And those…recruits, they…were…laughing and…making fun…of you…and calling…you…horrible names. I was so…mad…that for the…first time ever…I wanted…to strangle…them. But I didn't…because…I knew…it would…be wrong….and you…would be…upset…with me. I have…always…looked up…to you…and tried to…be at least…a fraction…of the man…you are. I didn't…want to…disappoint…you."

The pain was closely reaching unbearable proportions and he had to clamp his mouth shut tightly for several minutes to keep from crying out while the pain gripped his figure. The hurting young man had done nothing but try to survive this horrible situation and leave final heartfelt words to his island family. And during all of that, agonizing pain would consume him, raging throughout his injured body and oftentimes leaving him to bite his lower lip hard to stop from screaming out his misery.

The first mate was able to open his mouth a minute later after closing it during the pain, "I decided…I…wouldn't…tell you…what had…happened…between…my father…and me. But now…I think…you should know. I…promised…myself that I'd…defend you…till my…dying day, and…now that…I'm here, I…wish I could…have shown…you…just how much…I care for…you. I wish I…could have…shown you…how much….you mean…to me and…shown you…more…love than I…did. I know I've…joked …at times about…your weight, but…Skipper, there was…no truth in…what I said. I love…you…so much, Skipper. I never…meant…to hurt you…with my…fat comments."

About half of Gilligan's flesh was covered in multitudes of black and blue bruises. More than half of his physique had blood either on him or surrounding him. Suddenly, fiery pain shot through his chest and spread throughout his body, forcing the first mate to bite down on his lip for the hundredth time that day.

The sailor licked his dry, chapped lips, trying to wet them, but it was no use. His mouth was just too dry from hours of constant heat and lack of water. "I want you…to know…that you have…become…more than a…a friend to…me, even more… than a captain. You…have…become…the father I…always wished…I had…while I was…growing up. I know…I already have…a…a biological…father, but I…had stopped thinking…of him…as my dad…when I was…ten years old…and accidently…made a huge…mess in our…garage…with…a can of….paint…that I tripped…over. Boy, I have…never…seen him…so mad…in…my short ten…years of life…than that….particular day. He…scared me…that day…and had…almost…hit…me too. Also he never…came to any…of my…school events…and never told…me…how proud of…me he was…when I got…a first place…blue ribbon…on…a science…project….involving…a life cycle…of a…dolphin. I had…always…hoped…he would…somehow…change, but…another part…of me…knew he…wouldn't. And I…was right. Those…awful…words…he had said...about you…when I called…about the medal…I would be…receiving…and then not…showing…up…at the ceremony…was the last…straw for…me." Sharp spasms suddenly darted up and down the youngest Castaway's right shoulder, causing him to gasp out in agony.

His thoughts quickly turned back to his family. Oh how the young man longed to see them one last time. But it was not meant to be; the former Navy sailor could only hope they would know how he felt once they had listened to the recorder. Had he left with them an essence of his being that they could remember with love and admiration? Did they know how very proud he was of them? Would they forget him? Would they think of him often? Gilligan didn't know, but he hoped all but one answer would be a 'yes'.

"But…you, Skipper, you…had done… none of those…things to me. You have always… done the…complete opposite. You have…shown me…your love, your…respect, your…pride, and…your strength. I could…depend on you…for anything…when my father…couldn't even do…the littlest…thing…for…me. Sure, I know…there has…been some times…okay, a lot…of times…where I had…made you mad…or messed…something up. You…said…some…hurtful…words…to…me. But I…knew…you didn't really…mean any of…those things…and would…always…apologize…to me…afterwards. And I would…always…forgive…you. I…spoke…the…truth…every…time. You have…to…know, Skipper, you…have taken…very good…care of me. Thank…you…for that."

The ground was hard as stone, cutting deeply into the first mate's back. His thoughts swirled around in his head, as if they were caught in a whirlwind. The young sailor's broken left leg was hurting like hell. His dislocated shoulder on his right was grossly disfigured; the swelling had practically covered the whole area. The Castaway's chest and stomach burned like fire while the agony continued to build as the flames were stoked higher and higher. His head felt like it was going to explode with the horrible headache he had gained from the hours of sunlight he had been exposed to. Not to mention sunburn on the skin that wasn't hidden by his clothes. He felt cold on the outside, and inside his abdomen churned and rolled, an unpleasant mixture of nausea, dizziness and lightheadedness. The young man's arms were numb and when he chanced a quick glance at both hands, he was horrified to see how blue his fingers had become since the last time he looked.

"Oh, Skipper, stay…strong…through…this. The…others…are going to…need you…more than…I…do. Try to…get rescued. And…please keep…my…memory alive. Tell…anyone…who would…listen…about me…and our…close…friendship…we had together. I love…you, Dad. So…much," the former Navy sailor cried out with thick emotion covering the tone of his voice.

Then Gilligan moved his head from the direction of the device and looked up at the sky. He stared for several long minutes, ocean-blue eyes paying no attention to the brightening atmosphere above him. It was more like his eyes were seeing something or _someone _beyond it. And the first mate proved it with his next statement.

"God, I'm…afraid…to die. Please, I can't…do it…anymore," the young sailor pleaded, honest eyes still facing upwards as pure fear highlighted his words. "I can't…go on…any longer. Please…take…me soon, this…suffering…I cann't bear…it."

"Yes, you can, Gilligan. You have to," Mary Ann's voice insisted, her sweet and caring tone coming from his right.

The youngest Castaway managed to turn his head to his right to see his best friend standing just inches away. And she was just as lovely as he'd remember. The Kansas girl wore a blue sweater and skirt that reached above her knees, the particular shade complimented her tan skin tone. On her feet, she had white ankle boots. In her pretty, dark-chocolate brown hair were two white ribbons tied to hold her pigtails in place. Her brown-doe eyes locked with his, silently urging him to keep going, to keep fighting until the Castaways arrived.

The former Navy sailor thought he had lost his mind and closed his eyes. Then he heard the honeyed voice again. His best friend's voice.

"Gilligan, you need to keep fighting," Mary Ann begged him with a scared look on her face. "You have to or you'll die. I don't think I could survive if I lost you, Gilligan. I'm so used to having you in my life now that I don't even want to think about what my life would be like without you in it. I know all of us wouldn't be able to continue living if you were gone. I know our lives would be dark and without hope if you left us. You make us all smile and laugh. You keep our spirits up and help us keep our sanity. But most of all, you remind us that life is a precious gift and we should appreciate every day we have together. You have to live, Gilligan. Don't give up. Please, don't give up," she finished, her sweet voice cracking with emotion.

Not wanting to cause his best friend any pain, the first mate did what the farm girl wanted. He didn't give up and kept on fighting.

"Yes, that's it, Gilligan! Keep fighting," Mary Ann urged him, somehow seeing the new change in him. "You have to keep living. Just don't give up. It won't be very long now and then we will be with you soon, I promise."

Just like the Professor, Mary Ann disappeared from his side on the ledge, leaving the sailor on his own again.

* * *

**A/N: **You know what to do. Send me a review and tell me what you thought about this chapter. What are your thoughts on Gilligan's first message to the Skipper? Was it emotional enough or not? Was it corny or was it perfect the way it was? How did I do with the Mary Ann Hallucination? Hopefully, I kept her in character. Who do you think will show up next? And which Castaway will Gilligan do next as his final goodbye? Also, does anyone know Gilligan's blood type? If you don't or the show doesn't mention it, please make up one and sent it with your review. I will be using it in the rescue scene. Finally, Gilligan is obvious going to need a blood transfusion. Who do you think should give blood? The only condition I have is that Mary Ann and the Skipper can't be use. It's has to be someone that isn't use all the time and doesn't have a close bond with Gilligan as the two I mention before.

And just out of curiosity, did any of you see the three Gilligan's Island movies? What did you think of them? They weren't five stars in my opinion, especially with some of the acting and the picture. Did you hate that Gilligan wasn't wearing his normal red shirt? Did you hate that Mary Ann suddenly had a fiancé and was going to married him after all those years? Do you hate that the writers never put the single folks in a relationship? I think I would have been lonely if I had to wait all that time without having a boyfriend. Finally, which movie out of the three was your favorite and why?

Below is the description of the eye color already mention in the story from a website called, **" ."**:

(Mary Ann) Someone with eyes like a doe, or doe-eyed, has big brown eyes that look vulnerable and sweet like those of a female deer.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed thirty-three stories of Gilligan being the star of the show.


	8. Ginger and The Howells' Visit

**Warning: **Might need tissues. It's going to be emotional in this chapter. Also, one graphic scene at the end of this chapter.

This chapter was edited by my beta, Minch. Thanks again for putting up with me and my many mistakes.

I don't own _Gilligan's Island. _Unfortunately, Sherwood Schwartz does. If I were the creator, I would have did the whole Hunter episode differently. However, I'm only allowed to play with his characters.

**Song: **Hold On by Dominic Camany. Btw, I changed a few of the lyrics at the end to fit with the story.

Okay, enough with the author's note. Enjoy the chapter and the nice twist at the end.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**Ginger and The Howells' Visit**

"Oh, what time is it, Ginger?" Mary Ann asked anxiously as she looked at the woman beside her.

The movie star lowered her head and raised her slim wrist to check her watch for the time. "It's almost nine," she answered her roommate forlornly. "Gilligan still has four hours and ten minutes to go."

"That's still quite a long time for the dear boy," Mr. Howell observed quietly from his seat. "However, he has lasted this long, so four hours should be as easy as caviar."

The redhead raised a fine and shapely eyebrow in question and turned to the millionaire. "Don't you mean as easy as pie?" she said, correcting him.

"No," Mrs. Howell interjected, patting her husband's arm in a loving fashion. "He means caviar. A pie is so dreadfully common."

Everyone but Mr. and Mrs. Howell rolled their eyes in slight amusement that once again the couple preferred something expensive compared to something simple and normal.

"Nevertheless, we still have a long time to go as well," the Professor pointed out, joining the conversation.

The Kansas girl played with the hem of her blue sweater in agitation while her pure white teeth held her deep rose-color lip hostage. "There must be something else we can do for poor Gilligan instead of just praying."

"Like what, Mary Ann?" the actress questioned her.

The farm girl threw her hands up in the air in frustration and helplessness, "I don't know, Ginger, but we _have _to do _something! _I can't just sit here, twiddling my thumbs and wait patiently to see if Gilligan will show up alive or dead." Mary Ann paused for a second, a faraway look in her brown doe eyes. She shook her head after she came out of her trance, like she was clearing the cobwebs away, before taking a long, hard look at the other worried Castaways around her. "We need to get out of here and help him!" she exclaimed in desperation, a strange expression appearing on her pretty, tan face.

The rest of the Castaways exchanged concerned looks with each other around the brunette. Not that she saw them since she stood from her seat and walked to the front of the cave, staring up at the bright sky.

Skipper was the next person to speak up. "What's wrong, Mary Ann?" he inquired, a worried look still etched on his teddy bear-like face, making him seem years older than he actually was.

The girl in question just shook her head again, and turned around before locking eyes with the captain. "It's probably nothing, Skipper. Just my imagination or something playing tricks on me," she tried to reassure him. However, she still had a troubled expression stuck on her face, which caused her reassurance to fail.

"Why don't you tell us, dear?" Mrs. Howell said in a kind, motherly way. "It obviously means a great deal to you, so whatever is bothering you simply can't be nothing."

"Well…" the Kansas girl hesitated for a moment before she saw the encouraging expressions on all five faces. "You know Gilligan and I are best friends, right?"

"Yeah…" the Skipper agreed slowly, wary of what he was about to find out. The others nodded their heads silently.

"I….I never told any of you this before, I didn't want you all to think I was crazy. But I get this strange feeling every time Gilligan winds up in some dangerous situation. And this feeling hasn't failed me yet." She paused, looking down and taking a deep breath. A few seconds later, her troubled eyes moved from the ground to the wide eyes of the group, "I'm having that feeling right now. Gilligan is somewhere on this island, hurt or in desperate need of help."

Mr. and Mrs. Howell, the Skipper, Ginger, and the Professor froze where they were and stared at Mary Ann in horror after hearing her shocking announcement.

* * *

Gilligan's eyes were closed but only for a short second. The fear of falling asleep and never waking up penetrated his thoughts constantly. His breathing had become so shallow that his lips had begun to turn blue from lack of sufficient oxygen. The strong need to survive he'd held onto for so many long hours had vanished. The only thing keeping the young man from giving up and sinking into a deep, indefinite sleep was the hallucinations of his family appearing one after the other, encouraging him to keep fighting whenever he was at his lowest point. Unfortunately, you don't always win while fighting for your life. The first mate's life was still in jeopardy, despite all the fighting he had been doing. And no amount of fighting or strength would prevent Death from taking his next victim.

_The image of the beautiful movie star, Ginger Grant, disappeared from her elegant perch on a small ledge a few feet above the first mate's chest. Ginger wore a long, peach dress and heels that matched her outfit. Her long, fiery red hair move around her with the gentle, cold breeze and a few strands shifted in front of her forest-green eyes. A delicate hand with manicured nails and creamy skin rose and swept the wisps of hair out of her eyes and face._

As the young sailor continued to stare at the spot where the actress once sat a few seconds ago, her soft but firm voice and her positive words echoed in his ears, even long after she had left.

"_Gilligan," she quietly called to him. "Can you hear me? Honey, please don't give up!"_

_The injured Castaway followed the kind voice and soon spotted her sitting above him. "Gin…ger?" he said in a voice that was barely above a whisper._

_She gave him a small nod in confirmation as a sad smile formed on her cherry-red lips. Tears of sorrow and hurt for him welled up in her gorgeous eyes. "Yes, sweetheart, it's me. I'm right here with you. Oh, Gilligan, please don't give up! We need you here with us!"_

_The young man inhaled slowly before letting the oxygen out with the exhale. The simple action was intended to calm his overwhelming emotions, but failed miserably as sobs bubbled up from his chest and into his throat, escaping from between his alarmingly blue-colored lips. "I'm…sorry…Gin…ger," he whispered weakly. "I…I don't...think…I can…hold on…for much longer."_

"_Oh, sweetheart," she murmured sweetly. "You can. I know you can. Please, Gilligan, don't leave us! We love you. We would be lost without you."_

"_I'm…sorry, Ginger." He didn't know why he was apologizing, just that he had to for some reason._

_However, she must have understood the reason because her tear-filled eyes softened and a watery smile was shot in his direction. "Gilligan, you don't need to apologize. I'm safe because of you. You protected me from that horrible monster. You protected all of us. It's you we need to thank and we will once we are all together again." She paused before speaking again, "But in order to do that, you need to keep going."_

"_I'll try…" the former Navy sailor reluctantly gave in, too tired to argue. He didn't want to leave his family behind, but he was tired! He knew he wouldn't last for much longer._

_She rewarded him with a happy expression on her flawless face. "Thank you, Gilligan. We will be with you soon, I promise."_

_And with that said, Ginger began to sing softly to him. A song which she knew would encourage him to keep fighting and surviving. A song that would help him now emotionally and later on, once he had recovered from his physical injuries._

Hold On

Say what you need to say, what you need to say

Do what you need to do, what you gonna do?

And take what you need to take, what you need to take

Lose what you need to lose, what you gonna lose?

Go on, be strong

Try to hold on

I hope this song, gives you strength to carry on

In times we'll make this right and you'll be fine

So hold on

Blame who you need to blame

Do whatever it takes to ease the pain

Through all the hurt you're still the same

Go on, be strong

Try to hold on

I hope this song, gives you strength to carry on

In times we'll make this right and you'll be fine

So hold on

When you're lost and you can't seem to see,

We'll be your eyes through it all

Hold you tight through it all

When you're tired and you can't seem to breathe,

We'll be your breath through it all

Hold you tight through it all

Go on, be strong

Try to hold on

I hope this song, gives you strength to carry on

In times we'll make this right and you'll be fine

So hold on

_The first mate's face had softened from the pained grimaced during the end of the redhead's song and his lips curled into a smile that tugged at her heart strings. "Thank…you, Ginger. That was…a swell…song."_

"_I'm glad you enjoyed it," she said as she wiped the hot, salty tears from the corner of her eyes and let out a shuddery breath. Then forest-green eyes met with ocean-blue. "Remember, sweetheart, to hold on and be strong. It won't be long now."_

_And with those final words, she disappeared from her spot above him._

Just then his stomach lurched dangerously, causing whatever contents the Castaway had left inside to rush into his throat. In that instance, Gilligan shifted his head from the view above and gagged to his left, the hot burning acid spewing forth and mixing with the dirt and rocks beside him. He dry-heaved long after he was done throwing up, the sharp spasms in his mid-section felt like they were ripping him to shreds.

Once he finished, the former Navy sailor panted heavily, the action of getting sick taking a lot out of him. The pained expression embedded in his handsome features, spoke more loudly of the suffering he was forced to endure than any of the sounds he had made in the past.

Gilligan twisted his head away from the pool of sick and back in the direction of the recorder. He took a breath, as deep as his injured ribs would allow, while wishing the bitter and disgusting taste of puke would leave his mouth. Or a canteen of water was placed beside him. Whatever wish was the easiest. It didn't matter to the first mate, so long as the horrible flavor was gone. Plus, the pungent smell beside him wasn't pleasant either. However, he was forced to endure both until he could get away from this ledge.

_Water, _he thought to himself. _God, I need water!_

"To Gin…ger: I….want….you to know…that I….consider…you…my sister," Gilligan started a new message, this time to the actress. "An older…sister that would…tease her…baby…brother, yet…protect and comfort…him…whenever he…needed it. "

The first mate swallowed or tried to, that is. "I meant…what…I said…in my…diary. You…are…good. You…are…so much…more than…good. You're…smart….and nice…and respectable…and artistic….and noble…and talented. You're…very pretty…and a swell…entertainer. I'm… blessed…that I…got to…meet and…spend these…last few years…with you. To know…the true…you…and not…the person behind…the…movie star…mask."

"Ginger," he continued on. "You…taught…me…that the show…must…go…on, no…matter…what happens. That you… can't…stop…should…something…failed to go…your way. I didn't…understand…it then, but…I…understand it…now. I learned…a lot…from you, not…only as…an actress…but as a…friend. I'm…proud…to call you…my sister… and friend."

Just then, the young sailor felt a blast of pain rip through him. "Gin…ger," he said through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. "Go…on. You will…find…your…Prince Charming…soon. A man…that you…truly…deserve. A…man that will… treat…you like…a queen. Tell…him… that if…he doesn't…treat…you…right, treat…you…like you…rightfully…deserve, he will…have to…answer…to me. I…don't know…how…but I will…find a…way…to come back. Bye…Ginger…take care."

Tiny beads of perspiration continued to break out on his cut-up forehead and run down, still burning into his eyes when he couldn't wipe the salty liquid away. The young Castaway fought to keep from dying as he still had so much he wanted to say to his family. Yet the kind and encouraging words from three members of his family were enough to keep him going. Though, their supportive words could only last for so long.

Gilligan's head throbbed in time with his rapid heartbeat, making the headache he had obtained an hour or two ago more painful as time went on. When the former Navy sailor felt the cold breeze, he shivered violently from the cool air that seemed to seep into his flesh and bones. His abdomen churned, though Gilligan didn't know with what since he didn't have much else left inside him. Or it could just be his stomach reacting to the sharp pains coming from his head. Though, having an empty abdomen didn't really stop his insides from turning into knots.

The first mate opened his mouth to begin yet another message, this time to the Howells, when out came a groan that bounced against the rocky cliff side. He waited a minute or two to let the pain subsided from around his chest before opening his mouth again. This time, only broken and whispered words came out of his mouth.

"To…Mr. and…Mrs. Howell: you…should…know…that I…consider you…two… as my parents. Yeah…the Skipper…is like a…father…to me, but…I could have…more than…two…parents…if I…wanted too. Besides, this way…the three of…you…could…share custody…of me, if you want…" The sailor trailed off, a pained expression creeping onto his reddish face. He was forced to draw in a deep breath as the spasms in his gut suddenly appeared again, joining in with the intense pounding inside his skull and the hot white pain rushing through his hurt body.

For several longs minutes, the youngest Castaway lay in silence while sucking in mouthfuls of air. He could feel his heart hammering within his chest, putting forth its own sharp pains that zoomed around his injured ribs and throughout the rest of his figure.

"Oh," he moaned loudly, whimpering as he suffered through more of the sharp pains. Of course, the ledge beneath his back wasn't a soft, fluffy cloud. The nature-made ledge was hard as stone and dirty, the rocks under him cutting deeply into his back.

The dying young man battled against the panic that came from deep within him, silently telling himself to calm down. He needed to slow his heart rate down. One reason was because the pumping organ felt like it was ripping his ribs apart. The second was because it would slow the blood flow, as well as the blood loss from his major wounds.

"Don't panic. Don't panic," he quietly told himself, over and over again until his heart rate slowed down to a slightly normal rate.

With that taken care of, Gilligan turned his attention back to the recorder, "I won't…go into…any details, but…my real parents…weren't exactly…great parents. They weren't…around…when…I…needed them. My mother…only showed up…to a couple…of…important events, like…my high…school…graduation… and a…award…ceremony…in my honor." He closed his eyes for a second before opening them again. "But…you two…are not…like them. You are…way…better. Ten times…better. To be honest…I really…wished…both…of you…were my…real…parents. At least…you…would…give me…more love…than they…did. But…enough about…that."

The former Navy sailor took a shallow breath while his eyes glistened with tears that would not fall. All of the heartfelt words he had been pouring out to the recorder were getting to him emotionally. The rest of the Castaways, once they listen to the recorder, would hear the cracking clearly in his hoarse voice. There was absolutely no way he could hide it, even if he wanted to.

"I meant…what…I said…in my…diary. Mr. Howell, you're…a…wonderful person… and while…you _do like_…money, I know…you would give…your entire…fortune…away…in order to…keep the…people…you dearly care…about…beside you. You…have…shown me…in the past…that I'm…just as good…as you, an…equal. You are…trustworthy… and you have…wit. You're…understanding…and…deeply respectful, nice…and…good. You…are…warm and…likable and…a very…educated man. Not to…mention…you're compassionate…and have…a big heart.

"Mrs. Howell, you're…truly a…pretty and wonderful…lady. You're sweet…and loving…and very…motherly. You have…a good heart…and…are very wise. I'm… blessed…that I…got to…meet and…spend these…last few years…with you both. To know…the true…Mr. and…Mrs. Howell…and not the…couple…behind…all of the…money, jewelry, and…fur. Thank you…Mr. Howell…for willing…to give up…your money…so I could…get…away…from Kincaid. And trying…to protect…me…from the…horrors…that were bound…to happen...during the…hunt. Thank…you. I…love…you, Mom…and Dad."

For several long minutes, the first mate lay motionless, just listening to the wonderful sounds of nature around him. Then he was forced to move his body as shivers of cold and spams of agony washed over him. His abdomen churned with hunger and sickness and his mouth was as dry as a hot desert, making his throat so thick that he could barely speak above a whisper.

It has been several hours since he'd had anything to eat or drink, which left him in a weakened state. The numerous injuries Gilligan had sustained didn't help either. Because of his declining health, he could barely raise his head and even the simple action of turning from side to side was becoming quite difficult for him to accomplish.

Thanks to all of that and much more, it was no wonder the sailor was so exhausted and at the point of giving up, ready to succumb to the eternal darkness. If it wasn't for the encouraging words from the hallucinations and the strong desire to see his family one last time, he probably would have been gone a long time ago. However, he was hanging on, growing weaker and weaker, but still hanging on as tightly as he could.

"Gilligan, dear boy," two voices called out in unison, a gruff male and a sweet female one.

The first mate looked around, not able to believe his ears. So he tried to seek the truth with his own eyes. "Mr. and…Mrs. Howell?" he whispered as he continued to look around, not yet seeing the wealthy couple.

"Behind you, sweet boy," Mrs. Howell said kindly, informing the sailor where she and her husband were.

The youngest Castaway struggled for a moment to shift his head from the recorder, which was still on and recording, and faced upwards. That's when he saw them. The two millionaires were crouched down in the dirt, both on his left side behind his head while their positions cast shadows upon and around him.

Mr. Howell wore a yellow sweater over a white, collar shirt and grey slacks. His footwear was expensive dark leather shoes. And on top of his charcoal gray hair was a white hat with a wide, yellow strip going around it. As for Mrs. Howell, she wore a pretty pink outfit with small white polka dots on it and light pink shoes. On her delicate hands were white gloves, which match the pearl necklace wrapped around her neck and the diamond earrings on her elegant ears. To finished off the beautiful ensemble, the rich lady wore a pink hat over her chamomile blond hair with flowers the colors of white and pink, and a little bit of green showing as well.

Gilligan switched his eyes from the champagne brown of Mr. Howell to the crystal blue of Mrs. Howell before repeating the action once again, still not believing what his eyes was seeing. Was it possible a person could be driven crazy while hit directly with unending pain for hours? Was the lack of water to quench his overpowering need for a drink and food to satisfy his enormous hunger causing him to have mental side-effects? Was that why he was seeing all of these hallucinations?

Mr. Howell slowly and gently stroked the young man dark hair while his wife caressed his ashen cheek.

"Mom? Dad?" he whispered.

"Yes, my boy," Mr. Howell said softly with a gentle smile on his aging face while he continued to run his fingers affectionately through the former Navy sailor's dark brown hair. "We're here."

"Everything will be fine, dear boy," Mrs. Howell cooed, her maternal instinct kicking in as she tenderly touch the clammy, moist skin of his face. "You'll see. We will get you out of this ghastly place very soon."

"Mom, Dad, I'm…sorry…I couldn't…be the…perfect son…you both…wanted," the first mate's voice cracked with emotion. After all the emotional and verbal abuse he repeatedly took from his drunken father as he grew up, he decided he never wanted to disappoint anyone in his life again. So the young sailor would try his hardest to please everyone so he wouldn't be a letdown to them like he was with his father. That might be the reason why he often messed up an experiment of the Professor or ruined another rescue attempt, or even when he was clumsy.

So when the Howells released him back to the Skipper and the others, Gilligan felt bad inside because he thought he had let them down. He knew they never had any kids because they weren't able to, and he knew how much having a child meant to them, which is why he was upset that everything didn't work out for them. Sure, he was happy to be back with the others and being a Gilligan again instead of a Howell. He knew he wasn't happy with the Howell's rich lifestyle and knew they understood and weren't hurt. Yet, that didn't stop the guilt he felt inside him.

The reason the youngest Castaway brought the subject up now was because he never got the chance to apologize to the wealthy couple. Deep inside his heart, he knew it wasn't necessary. But as he grew weaker and weaker and was on the edge of death, he felt like this was his one chance to tell them.

The couple looked at each other with wide startled eyes before turning back to the person in front of them. Mr. Howell swallowed hard, eyes burning as he fought back the tears while his heart broke for the injured young man lying before him. "No, son, you have no reason to apologize. You are perfect the way you are and I don't want you to change. Ever! Lovey and I are the ones who need to apologize to you. We never meant to hurt you. For that, we are deeply sorry."

"You don't...need...to...apologize, but I...will...accept...it, even if it's...unnecessary," the former Navy sailor replied quietly, relieved that the burden of his guilt had finally disappeared after hearing and accepting the millionaire's honest but touching words.

Mrs. Howell's heart broke like her husband's after hearing Gilligan's remorseful words while silent tears slowly fell from her eyes. She didn't even bother to wipe them away for she was more concerned for the young man in front of her instead of her image and reputation. "Dear boy, you're perfect in our eyes. We love you and are so proud of you. You're truly the son Thurston and I always wanted."

The first mate's eyes watered a little at the heartfelt words while a lump formed in his throat, but that didn't stop a huge happy smile from growing on his face. He didn't need to say anything more to the wealthy couple. They could see gratitude written plainly on his face.

Suddenly, a frown appeared on his lips. "Why am I...seeing everyone...when I...know...all of you...are back...in the...cave?" Gilligan asked quietly, a confuse look in his eyes.

"My boy, the reason why you're seeing everyone is because we are here to pull you through this. We all want you to live and can't imagine our lives without you, nor do we want to," the millionaire explained as he brushed his fingers through the dark hair in a slow manner before letting out a chuckle. "I guess, you could say we're your guardian angels." He then grew serious with his next statement, "Gilligan, we may not be with you physically, but we are with you mentally. We are watching over you and guarding you as we speak."

"You still have a lot of living to do, so please, dear boy, don't give up. Please keep living," Mrs. Howell said softly, taking over for her husband.

"Okay," he agreed slowly.

"Thank you, Gilligan," Mr. Howell murmured kindly. "I promise you, we will be with you soon."

Suddenly, the image of Mr. and Mrs. Howell vanished and the sailor was once again alone on the ledge. Glancing at the sky, he realized the sun was almost directly over him, which meant he only have an hour or two left till the hunt was officially over. Question was, could he make it until then?

The youngest Castaway silently vowed to hang on. After all, hadn't his mother told him he had a lot of living to do? He couldn't let her or the others down.

* * *

Ramoo glanced at his wristwatch for about the thousandth time in the last hour as he continued to stand guard outside of the cave where six of the seven Castaways were being held prisoner. The seventh member had become the prey in his boss' hunt and had been running for his life for the past twenty-two hours. Or so he thought.

The native turned around, spear still held in his hand, and watched the people in the bamboo jail cell. Currently, all six members were standing in a tight circle together, holding hands with each other and speaking words so softly that even the Asian man could not hear and he was only a few feet away. No one in the group was paying attention to Ramoo, which he was very thankful for. He was not sure the anxiety he strongly felt inside him, that something could be wrong with his boss, was kept successfully hidden from his features.

He did not want his prisoners to know that he was worried. He knew his boss was a great hunter and didn't doubt for one second that he wouldn't catch his quarry. Nevertheless, there were only two hours left before the hunt was over, and yet he had not seen his boss or heard any gunshots for the past several hours. He had never in all the years he had been beside the man remembered his boss taking this long to take down his prey. Usually, it only took him half as long.

No, something was wrong. Deeply wrong.

The native could feel it in his gut. And his gut never led him wrong before.

Something bad had happened to his boss and the one they called Gilligan.

His boss would have skinned him alive if he could only see what the Asian man's next decision would be. Ramoo took one last peek at the six Castaways – they were still occupied with whatever it was they were doing – before slowly and quietly moving away from the cave to begin his search for his boss.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Ramoo made his way to the beach that was closest to the lagoon. In all the time he had been searching the island, he still haven't found his boss or Gilligan. Anxiety was rising inside of him more and more as time went on. He did not want to leave his boss at the mercy of these people, yet he did not want to still be around once the Castaways discovered their guard had vanished from his post and broke out of jail.

The native had just turned a corner on the path around the base of several cliffs on the beach when he stopped in his tracks, frozen with alarm.

The Asian man had finally found his boss and the sight before him wasn't pretty.

His boss was lying on the sand, his figure in a twisted pretzel-like position below one of the cliffs. His boss was on his stomach but not completely because the branch that still pierced his body prevented it. Furthermore, the hunter's weird position couldn't hide the blood on the front of his safari outfit or the huge pool on the sandy ground beneath him. His boss' arms and legs were also twisted. The palm of his boss' right hand was pressed against the sand, almost like it had grabbed a handful while the other was faced away from the form. The left leg was bent inwards while the other lay in a position it naturally shouldn't. The head rested on the hunter's right side, the dark brown eyes wide and dull as they stared lifelessly at the native while his mouth was opened in a silent scream, joining the frightened expression on his handsome face. The brown Australian bush hat was on its side in the glittery sand several inches away from his boss' head. The hunting rifle his boss had used for the hunt was lying beside him, near his left hand.

"No..." the Asian man breathed in horror as he ran forward. When he reached his boss, he knelt beside him and with hesitant fingers, touched his neck, futilely checking for a pulse when deep down inside he knew his boss was gone. "No, boss! What did you do!? What happened!?" Ramoo exclaimed in distress.

The native received no answer from his (now-dead) boss, which wasn't a surprise to him. Though, he would have like to hear something from the man before he had departed from the island.

Ramoo was just about to pick up the form of his deceased boss when he heard several voices being carried on the wind from the direction he had come. With a panicked expression on his face, the native hopped to his feet and glanced between his boss and the direction the sounds were coming from, suddenly unsure what to do. He didn't want to leave his boss there on the island but the voices were coming closer and closer and becoming louder and louder with each second.

The Asian man made a quick decision. With a regretful look at his boss and an, "I'm sorry, Boss," Ramoo spun around and ran to the helicopter. Once he was there, he jumped inside and started the engine, soon lifting the chopper off the ground and flying away from his boss and the six Castaways.

He said six because he didn't know where Gilligan was nor did he really care. All the native cared about was saving his skin before the Castaways could roast it.

* * *

**A/N:** You know what to do. Send me a review and tell me what you thought about this chapter. What are your thoughts on Ginger and the Howell's visit and the Gilligan's message to them? How did I do on describing the Howells' outfits? I'm a little nervous because I don't know the names of some of those expensive clothes and fear I might have put the wrong name in or described something wrong. What about the twist I had at the end? I really, really want to hear your thoughts on it.

Thanks for all of your answers on the blood types and who should give blood. And thank you for giving me your thoughts on the three Gilligan's movies. Now, I have another question for you. Did you see the documentary of the Gilligan's Island show? If not, you should go see it. I particularly like the ending of it with all the Castaways.

Below is the description of the eye color already mention in the story from a website called, **" ."**:

(Ginger) This is a muted, soft medium green that may contain a few flecks of brown in the iris, but not the equal ration of brown-to-green that would produce hazel eyes. Forest green eyes are closer to brown than blue on the color spectrum and will tend to absorb light rather than reflect it and appear luminous.

(Mr. Howell) It has connotations of wealth, beauty, and decadence. Forget the grayish part of the dictionary definition. Champagne eyes are a very pale golden color with perhaps a warm, subtle orange tinge. They will sparkle and catch the light. You almost couldn't call champagne-colored eyes "brown" since they're so pale.

(Mrs. Howell) Crystal-blue eyes are an extremely pale-blue with a lot of white rays in the iris, and they are clear and luminous.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed thirty-four stories of Gilligan being the star of the show.


	9. On the Edge of Death

**A/N: **Hello, my dear readers! I have another wonderful chapter for you. Before we get to the chapter, I have a few things I need to mention first. I would like to thank **dabzzygirl, Minch, Magenta-Skye, **and **K9grmingTwihard **for giving me ideas on what Gilligan should asked the Professor to teach him should he survive. I decided the winner should be **K9grmingTwihard, **since I thought the idea was brilliant. So the learning disability and the knowledge of species of birds are from K9grmingTwihard, not me. I'm just borrowing them. Furthermore, I would like to thank **Doll Girl** for allowing me to borrow the roles each Castaway played in from her story, "_**Need." **_

I know I shouldn't put song lyrics in the story for fear of the story being deleted and my account disappearing. I understand and promise that this will be the last song I used in this story. I don't intend to overwhelmed this story with music, just add a new layer to it. Just please don't report me or else you will have an upset writer and some very angry readers on your hands. However, in case my story should be deleted, you can find me at Miss Bridget Sharpe's Fanfiction board called, "Pinger Magness." Posting chapters are slow right now since I'm trying to get a hanged of how to post and such.

I just wan to mention that Gilligan's Island 50th anniversary is coming up at the end of September and some of us authors are trying to reach 500 stories by that time. We are currently at 476 and need 24 stories before the anniversary's date. Please help us in making our goal a reality.

**Note: **I didn't like how easy it was for the Castaways to escaped from the jail in** "**The Hunter**" **episode, so I decided to based their escape scene off of** "**Gilligan Goes Gung Ho.**" **Gilligan is still hallucinating, so he will be seeing the last Castaway in this chapter. There are a lot of ellipses in this chapter to show you how difficult it is for Gilligan to talk, not to mention speak. Hopefully, the chapter won't to too difficult to read. You can either read the dialogue with the ellipses or without, it's your choice. There is also a hint of Pinger in this chapter. Finally, I put a few lyrics from a country song called, "**I Want You to Live****" by George Canyon **in the story. It's in the dialogue.

**Warning: **None that I know of other than you might need some tissues. It's going to be emotional in this chapter.

This chapter was edited by my beta, Minch. Thanks again for putting up with me and my many mistakes.

I don't own _Gilligan's Island. _Unfortunately, Sherwood Schwartz does. If I were the creator, I would have did the whole Hunter episode differently. However, I'm only allowed to play with his characters.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

**On the Edge of Death**

**(Two hours left)**

"To the Professor," Gilligan began in a soft, tired voice. "We may…not…have a close…bond…like I…do…with the Skipper…or Mary Ann, but…that doesn't…mean I care…less for you. Actually, lately…there has been…something…I wanted…to tell…you, to tell…all of you. About a…month or so…ago, my…feelings for you…all changed. In a…good…way, that is. I don't…see you…as friends…anymore. Well, I…still do, but…now…I see…you as…members of…my family."

The first mate paused, needing to take a small break from speaking before he could continue. His breathing was still very shallow but that wasn't going to stop him from finishing his last few messages to his island family. Talking might be taking every bit of energy he had left, but he wasn't going to quit. Not now.

"I consider…you, Professor," the young sailor resumed, "to be…an older…brother to me. You…have taught me…many things…in the past. Some of…those things…were…interesting…and very…helpful. The other…things, mostly…the scientific…stuff, while… they weren't…interesting…to me, I…have to say…they were…great inventions. Everything…you do…Professor…is important…and very…helpful, not…only to us…but for…our…survival…on this…island." He sighed loudly, "I know…I haven't…said it…as much…as I…should, Professor, but…thank you. Thank…you…for…all the stuff…you have…done for us. I'm sorry…that it…took until…now…for me…to give you…my gratitude."

Suddenly, Gilligan had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out as more spasms hit him, causing excruciating pain in his right shoulder and across the expanse of his chest. For several agonizing moments, the wounded young man did absolutely nothing. He didn't move an inch of his body. He didn't speak. Heck, he didn't even breathe as the pain spread and consumed his entire form.

"Professor," the youngest Castaway muttered through clench teeth, the pain and weakness easily heard, even with how tight he held his jaw. "You've…been…everything…I've always…wanted…to be. You're…smart…educated…handsome. Me…I…I'm none of…those…things. I never…even made it…to college…like I wanted…to. Like…I dreamed. But how…could I? I'm not…smart…and I…sure don't…have that…kind of…money…for classes. I…barely…passed…high school…with a…D average…and my…teachers…weren't…really…people…I could…talk to…for help…in getting…me…into…college."

The former Navy sailor moaned loudly, whimpering as another bout of pain surged through him. "I…know I…have…exasperated you…along with…the others. I know…I'm clumsy…and…and...accident-prone. I…know I'm…a pest…and a…a bother…and that…I get…in everybody's…way. Not to…mention…I have…ruined…rescue attempts…and your…experiments…in some way." He inhaled as deeply as he could before slowly letting it out. Then he continued on, "I don't…mean to…cause...trouble…or ruin…anything. I don't! And…I'm sorry. I wished…I could…give…you…more than…just…an apology…but that's…all…I can…give…you…right now."

By the time Gilligan finished his little monologue, he was breathing hard, gasping for every breath he took. Pinching his lips tightly together and staying still, he braced himself against the pain as it hit him once again. His eyes were open and looking to his left when everything in his slightly, blurry vision began to spin rapidly, making him really dizzy. The first mate had to shut his eyes just to make the whirling stop.

Just as an extra precaution, the sailor kept his eyes close a little long as he completed his message to the intellectual. "I don't…think…I'm…going…to make…it…by the time…you all…get here. But if…I do…for some…reason, I…have….a favor…to ask…of you, Professor," he breathed, gasping for each shallow breath. "Will you…see…if I…have…a learning….disability? Maybe…that's...why… I…struggled…so much…in school. If I…do…have a…learning disability…maybe I could…try learning…the subjects…I missed…in school…again. Maybe...I could…go off…to college…once we're…rescued. And…can you…teach me…more about…the…different…plants…and species…of birds here…on the island? I'm…interested…in knowing…more about them."

The injured Castaway slowly opened his eyes and saw the world wasn't spinning violently anymore. He gradually turned his head upwards, moving his left arm across his face to shield his eyes from the hot rays of the sun. He could feel the heat coming off his skin as it touched his face and could barely see the redness that covered most of his limb because of the bright light above him. Shifting his extremity a little from his eyes, the former Navy sailor tried to see if he could see the edge of the cliff. But the bright sunlight was blocking his view since it was now almost in the middle of the sky. That could only mean one thing to the young man.

Noon was approaching. The hunt was almost over.

Gilligan should have been elated, but he wasn't. The hunt had been over for him ever since he and Kincaid had fallen off that cliff. The real problem was trying to hold on just a little longer until his family was beside him. However, deep down inside, the first mate knew no matter how fast they would get here, it would probably be too late. He could practically feel his life slipping away between his slim fingers. He could feel it deep within his muscles, in his bones, in his veins, and in his very heart.

The sailor argue with himself, telling himself that he was wrong. He had been hanging on for this long so why couldn't he wait a little longer? True, it was a miracle that the Castaway was still alive, despite the huge amount of blood loss. And he probably had more help surviving than just the hallucinations appearing around him. But his final hours on the island were ticking by fast and no amount of help was going to prevent his premature death.

Well, the first mate still had a small window where medication and treatment could possibly save his short life. But the chance was very small and if help didn't arrive within the next hour-and-a-half, it would be too late. He'd be dead. Then nothing would be able to help him.

Gilligan's eyes were wide as dinner plates and filled with terror as he once again fought to keep from dying. An icy coldness surrounded his rapidly-beating heart and squeezed it, slowly extinguishing the light that symbolized the youngest Castaway's life.

The former Navy sailor struggled to turn his head back in the direction of the recorder. He could suddenly feel the pressing of time around him and hurried to finish the two messages and anything else he wanted to say, so nothing was left unsaid.

The first mate opened his mouth and spoke, "I wish…I could…see…you…one last time…before I…go. I wish…I could…tell…you…in person…how much…I…love…you…instead of…saying it…on this tape. I wish…I could…hear…you…speak…in…scientific lingo…once last…time, even if…I don't…understand…what you're…trying to say. And…I wish…I could…lock you…and Ginger…up somewhere…until you…finally admit…you like her. For…Pete's…sake, brother, tell…her…you….like her…already! Everyone….but you…can see…how much…you and her…like each other. So do it! Don't…make…her wait. Bye…big brother."

Just then, Gilligan felt another blast of agony rip through him, forcing him to cry out in pain. "Please, protect…them…and keep…them….safe…once I'm…gone! Help them…to get...rescued!" He prayed aloud to whoever would hear him and his prayer. His breathing came in ragged gasps as tears of anguished welled up in his eyes, but the salty liquid never fell down his face.

Without waiting to see if anyone had heard him, the young sailor began his final message to the last member of his family, "To…Mary Ann: sweet…loving, Mary Ann. Where…do…I begin? We have…a close…relationship…together. A bond…of friendship…that can't be…broken easily. You're…my friend. No, you're…more than that! You're…my best…friend. You've…been…there…for me…and have helped…me…through my…problems…so…many times…that I…lost count…a long time…ago. I have enjoyed…having…you…in my life…these past…few years…and going…butterfly hunting…with you…and just…being…together. Mary Ann…I meant…what I…said...in the past. You're…the kindest…and most beautiful…girl I've…ever met. One day…a man…will come…for you. Your…Prince Charming. He will…worship…the ground…you walk on…and treat…you…like a…princess. And I…know…he will take…you…to his…palace…where you…will live…happily…ever…after." He paused for a moment and a dark look emerged on his pasty face. "He better…treat…you…right….or I'll…come after him. You…tell him that. I will…come back, I…promise."

This time, the youngest Castaway was forced to stop in the middle of his message and gritted his teeth against the excruciating pain that ignited in his body. He trembled uncontrollably which caused more hot white agony to emerge inside him. Tiny droplets of blood oozed from his lower lip where his teeth had moved and bitten down too hard, to keep from screaming out.

The former Navy sailor continued with his message, finishing up with a few final words he wanted to say, "Mary Ann…you're…a hard worker…and…compassionate. You're…dearly respectful, and…nice, and…understanding. You…make the…best pies…in the world…and the…food…you make…is…mouthwatering. Mary Ann…please don't….feel guilty….or blame…yourself…for this. It's…not your…fault…I died. None of…it is. I think…it's an honor…to die…for people…you care…deeply…about…and I'd…do it again. I'd do…it…for you, in…order…to…protect you…from harm. I wish…you…knew…it was…okay. Please…don't…worry, Mary Ann, everything…is alright…now. Just...know that…I died…protecting…you…and the others….from that…monster. I'm…what I always…wanted…to be: a hero. Goodbye…Mary Ann. I'll be…watching over…you…and the others…from Heaven. I'll…see…you…again."

The last of Gilligan's strength that he held onto for so long finally left him. He could almost feel, rather than see, the bright white light above him as he closed his eyes. He knew he couldn't keep fighting for his life any longer, even if the other Castaways were there begging him to. He was just so tired and ready for all of this to be over with.

The first mate lay still on the rocky ledge, colorless eyelids hiding the ocean-blue eyes while the fiery rays of the yellow sun continued to beat down on his hot and painful flesh. With a small smile on his bluish lips, he waited for death to claim him.

"Gilligan! Gilligan! Wake up right now!" The Skipper ordered.

"I…can't, Skipper," Gilligan whispered, forcing the words from the back of his extremely parched throat. "I…can't…go…on…any longer. I'm…sorry…Dad."

"Gilligan! When I tell you to do something, you do it! That's an order! Now, open your eyes right now!" He bellowed in his loud, booming voice.

The first mate struggled to open his eyes, so weak that the simple task was hard to accomplish. When he did, he turned his head and saw the man he had looked up to and thought of as a father standing in front of him by his feet. The Skipper was dressed in his usual short-sleeve blue polo shirt and long, white khaki pants along with white socks and his blue tennis shoes. His captain hat was placed on top of his light blond hair as his baby-blue eyes stared at him.

"I'm sorry," the young sailor said in a quivering voice while flinching at the pain in his abdomen.

"Gilligan, little buddy. Keep fighting. You can do it, little buddy. I know you can. Do it for me," the Skipper implored.

"I…can't. I'm so…tired. So…very tired. I want…it…to be…over." The exhausted Castaway's voice was almost inaudible, even to his own ears. His left arm clutched at his stomach as the hunger spasms gnawed at his insides while excruciating pain kept in beat with his heart, the worst was pulsating around the hole in his appendage. And though he tried not to, the pitiful moans slipped passed his lips.

"I know, son, but you can do it," the Skipper insisted. "Please don't give up. I believe in you, little buddy. Come on, Gilligan! Keep going!"

"Okay, I'll…try…" the first mate fought his way from Death's grasp, suddenly having a burst of energy surged inside him. An overwhelming desire to live washed through the young man's soul. All he wanted was to get off this ledge and go back to camp, to his home. To see his beloved family once again. To be safe once more within the grassy walls of his hut. He wanted to keep going, to keep fighting the battle for his life. But in order to do that, he had to be alive. Living was all that mattered to him at that instance.

"Go, Gilligan, go! You can do it! That's it! That's what I want to see," the Skipper cheered with a huge smile on his gentle face.

Keeping his eyes trained on the older man before him, the young man continued to fight for his life, not only for him, but for his father and the rest of his island family. He knew he couldn't make it for very long, but he had to try for Skipper.

"That's it, little buddy. Keep fighting. Keep holding on. We will be with you before noon, I promise. Just hang in there for us, son."

Suddenly the image of the Skipper disappeared and Gilligan was once again alone on the ledge, the new energy and desire to live still flowing through the many veins in his form. And it would stay with him for a while.

The first mate groaned as the sharp pains repeatedly stabbed at his head along with the heat that bore down upon him. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, hissing softly as some of the salty drops of liquid entered his cuts and eyes, stinging intensely. The young sailor's heart was still racing, beating at an alarming rate while he glanced at his fingers on his abdomen, which were still unnatural blue. And his skin, while still moist and clammy, was now reddish and warm from the sun's constant attention.

Just as the Castaway took another shallow breath, an idea popped into his head. He had a few more things he wanted to say before he shut off the recorder for good. So without waiting another minute, he turned his head back to the device.

"I…will leave…you…with these…final words," the former Navy sailor began, pausing to take another breath. "Don't…blame…yourselves…for what…happened…to me. I died…protecting…you, you who…I truly…love and care…about. All six…of you…are members…of my family…and I'm blessed…I had you…all…in my life. I'll never…forget you…and I hope…you will…never forget…me as well. I will…watch over you…and keep you…safe. I'll be…your…guardian angel…until we…meet again. Hopefully…that's a…long time…from now, though. By that…time, I hope…you have…experienced… happy…and fulfilled lives." His frame shook as the breezed whipped around him.

"There are…some things…I want you…all…to do…for me, please. I want…you…to live…and I…want you…to love. You can…go back…to the past…but it…will never change. No matter…how much…you…wish it…would. Life…may…become…normal…again, but it…won't…be fully normal, too…much…has changed…for that…to happen. I want…you…to say…my name…as often…as you can. I would like…to…hear it. And I…want…to…see…you…smiling…again. Don't cry…over me…for too long…and please…don't ever…change. I want…you…to go…and not…give up. I want…you…to try…to get rescued…and be happy. Tell…stories…about me…and remember…me…as I was. Don't live…with regrets. And don't…take life…or the people…in your…life…for granted. Take…care…of…each…other, please." Gilligan's voice broke several times with thick emotion in multiple places during the wonderful speech he gave.

Groaning, the first mate whispered these final words, "I want…you…to know…that I'm…alright. I promise," he pause, his breathing labored while his lungs burned, gasping for air. "Goodbye, guys. I…love…you."

With those last words, the sailor slowly shifted his left extremity from its resting place on his stomach and in the direction of the recorder. He used only one finger to hit the stop button, hearing immediately the beeping noise as the recording stop. Using the same digit as before, he switched off the machine, no longer hearing the quiet noise of the device as the two wheels move around in a circle.

Then the lonely Castaway became lightheaded again. His senses were dulled, his world swimming before his very eyes. Suddenly, he screamed out as the burning pain cut through his ribcage. He shut his eyes tightly, slowly working his way through the excruciating pain that was slicing up his form.

While his eyes were closed and the agony raged on inside him, Gilligan thought about his family and the island one last time. Each one played such an important role in the group. The Professor was the brain and the Skipper was the brawn. Mary Ann was the heart and Ginger was the morale. Finally, Mr. Howell was the wit and Mrs. Howell was the wisdom. Each one was equally important. And each person held a special spot in his young heart and life.

_Home and family, _he concluded, _is all a person really needs to be happy. A place where I belong. And this island and the people with me is where I truly belonged._

* * *

**(An Hour and 40 minutes left)**

Mrs. Howell was the first Castaway to notice the new change in her surroundings. While she and the Professor croweded around her husband and the Skipper, and all of them continued to think of a way to escape and help Gilligan, she inconspicuously turned around and glanced at the bamboo cell-door. That's when she saw that Ramoo was gone from his guarding post in front of the cave.

Happiness filled her sweet heart at the sight. They could finally leave this nasty cave while that awful native was away without having the men go up against him in a fight. They had a chance to be free and she knew all of them would take it in a heartbeat if they knew.

The rich lady turned back around and alerted the rest of the Castaways about the marvelous news. "Everyone, look," she interrupted the useless conversation on how to break out of their jail cell, turn slightly and pointed at the front of the cave. With crystal-blue eyes still on the others, she announced, "That awful native has vanished! No one is guarding us now!"

Her husband, the Skipper, the Professor, Ginger, and Mary Ann all followed the direction she was pointing at with their eyes. When Mrs. Howell noticed the wide eyes filled with surprise and the happy expressions on their faces, she knew they saw what she wanted them to see. She then lowered her arm back to her side.

"Great, we can escape now!" Mary Ann exclaimed in excitement, jumping up from her seat.

"By Jove, indeed we can," Mr. Howell agreed, pleased at the sudden change of events.

The captain of the S.S. _Minnow _didn't say anything. He just rose from his seat and silently made his way to the bamboo door. Once there, he took his two large hands and wrapped them around the poles. Both rods were in the middle of the cell with a small space between his hands. He released the poles and flexed his hands before encircling them around the bamboo once again, preparing himself for his next action. Then, without waiting for help or a response, he shook the door violently while trying to crush the poles in his tight, strong grip.

However, the Skipper's method of breaking out of the jail cell was futile. He continued to try to break the door for a while longer before finally giving up and turning around to face the five other Castaways. With a defeated look on his face, he told the others, "I can't break the door down. That thing is as solid as a rock."

"Great, what do we do now," Ginger said in sad voice as she brushed a strand of red hair from her beautiful face. "We need a key to unlock the door, but Ramoo has it. Unless he had dropped it somewhere outside."

"Nope, I don't see it anywhere," the old sea dog replied as he searched the area for the skeleton key, the Howells have given them when they finished the jail, through the bamboo poles. The lock also came from the couple, taken off of one of their many trunks by the Professor.

The intellectual rubbed his chin in deep thought for a moment before his face lit up with realization. "I have an idea," he announced happily, snapping his fingers together.

"What? What is it?" Mary Ann cried.

"All three of us men can run at the door and see if we can crash through."

"But, Professor," Ginger softly protested beside him. "Skipper just said a moment ago that the door was like solid rock. He couldn't break the door down and he has more strength than all of us."

The scientist nodded his head in acknowledgement. "I know," he agreed. "But perhaps with our strength and weight combined, we can break down the door."

"By George, the egghead might have something there," Mr. Howell said, complimented the genius.

"It's worth the shot," the Skipper stated, agreeing with the idea. "Let's try it. Alright girls, come in the back of the cave."

"In the back of the cave, Lovey, dear," the millionaire ordered gently to his wife.

All the women moved to the back of the cave while the men stood together in the middle, preparing themselves to crash through the bamboo door.

"You men ready?" the captain asked the two gentleman beside him.

"Ready," the Professor replied, getting into his running stance while his eyes locked on the door in front of him.

"Ready," Mr. Howell answered before counting down the time. "Three…two…one, here we go…"

And when the countdown was over, all three men rushed to the bamboo door and slammed against it with their shoulders. At first, the men didn't think the door would budge. But with a little more pressure on the bamboo, they began to hear loud crackling noises. A minute later, the door finally gave way, causing the men to fall to the ground outside and land on their sides hard.

The women ran out of the cave, now finally free, and stood near the men, happiness and excitement coming off them in waves. The Skipper, Professor, and Mr. Howell got up from the ground and dusted the sand off of their clothes.

"Okay, here is what we need to do," the old sea dog said, coming up with a plan to help Gilligan. "Girls, you go back to camp. Mr. Howell, you should go with them to keep them safe from Kincaid and Ramoo. We don't know where they went, so they could be anywhere on this island. Also, all four of you come up with an escape plan in case the two come back to camp. We will find you later on. Blow your conch shells to let us know if Gilligan comes back to camp and we will come as fast as we can. Professor, you and I can go look for Gilligan and see if we can hide him until the hunt is over. Agreed?"

"Absolutely."

"By Jove, I'm game."

"Sound good to us," Ginger and Mary Ann said in union.

"Be safe, you two," Mrs. Howell said to the captain and intellectual. "Bring the dear boy home."

Both men nodded their heads before taking off into the jungle to search for Gilligan while the women and Mr. Howell went in the opposite direction, heading back to camp.

What neither groups knew just yet was that Mr. Howell and the girls wouldn't make it back to camp for a while. For they were stopped in the middle of their journey by someone they weren't expecting to see quite so soon.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, how was the chapter? Give me your honest opinion but please don't flame me. What did you think about the Pinger hint in the chapter? Would you really like to see Gilligan lock the two up after all of this is over? Tell me in a review or pm me. Umm...what else do I need to mention. Oh, I have a very important announcement that I will be making in the next chapter, so be looking for that.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed thirty-seven stories of Gilligan being the star of the show.


	10. Finding Gilligan

**A/N:** I bring to you, my wonderful readers, another new chapter. Of course, before we get to the chapter, I have a few things to say. First, WE MADE IT TO 500 for the 50 year anniversary of Gilligan's Island. We are now at 514. Thank you to those who post their stories for the challenge. Second, I have my own challenge to issue to the readers/authors of this fandom. Have you heard of the Ice Bucket Challenge to raise money and awareness for ALS aka Lou Gehrig's disease? The rules are simple: Douse yourself with ice cold water in the next 24 hours and film it or pay $100 to ALS Association. You also get to challenge other people to do get soak. Now, I'm not telling you to get wet. But you can if you want to. However, I do suggest you donate since it's for a worthy cause. No, my challenge is this: write as many GI stories as you can for the ALS charity in the next week. Please spread the word around to your family, friends, work buddies, anyone. Don't forget to donate!

Third: I have a major announcement to make! As this story is coming to a close, I decided to make a sequel to this story! That's right, you heard me. Another GI story. The story will be set after the Hunter and you will get to see how Gilligan cope with the emotional trauma the hunt has caused him. See the bottom A/N for the title and summary of the story. Not only will I making a sequel, but I'm thinking about turning it into a series. It won't be too long, though. Probably 3-4 stories. Also, I will be writing one-shots and little stories (I think they are cause outtakes?) that the series inspired. Some of them will be from the stories and some will be feature in alternative worlds. Unfortunate, I won't be starting on the sequel for a while. 1.) Because I have school in a week. 2.) I have a few chapters written long before this story came out and it's total mess. 3.) I want to take a break from this plotline and write some other GI stories. Don't worry, the wait shouldn't be too long.

In case my story should be deleted, you can find me at Miss Bridget Sharpe's Fanfiction board called, "Pinger Magness."

**Note:** I'm taking a few writing liberties here. Like my beta pointed out, I sincere doubt a person could survived a long fall like Gilligan had taken. I'm trying my best to make this story as realistic as possible, but I won't change the length of the fall, so let's pretend that someone can survive a such a long fall in the real world. Secondly, I'm saying that the cave and the Castaways were either in the middle of the island or at least so far away that they didn't hear the helicopter fly away with Ramoo inside it.

**Warning: **One cussword. But you will understand why once you read.

Sorry, but Gilligan doesn't get rescued in this chapter. This will be part 1 out of 3 of the rescued scene. Also, this will be the last chapter for a while. Updates will be slow with college.

This chapter was edited by my beta, Minch. Thanks again for putting up with me and my many mistakes.

I don't own _Gilligan's Island. _Unfortunately, Sherwood Schwartz does. If I were the creator, I would have did the whole Hunter episode differently. However, I'm only allowed to play with his characters.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

**Finding Gilligan**

**(90 minutes left)**

Ginger, Mary Ann, and the Howells were trekking their way back to camp, all exhausted and with roller coasters of emotion swirling inside them. They had been locked up in their makeshift jail by Ramoo for almost a day and were finally able to escape, thanks to the men's efforts with the bamboo door. Now, the four were taking one of many paths back to their campsite while the Skipper and Professor tore through the jungle, searching for Gilligan.

The four Castaways were taking hurried steps along the route beside the cliffs, none of them speaking for fear of attracting Kincaid's attention to their freedom. The main reason they wanted to get back to camp so quickly happened to be because they felt safe there, unlike the uneasiness they were feeling as they hiked out in the open. Plus, they had their weapons there should they need them to defend themselves again the hunter and his companion.

In the middle of their journey, an item caught Mary Ann's eye. She stopped in her tracks as the others continued on, unaware they had just lost a member of their small group. While the distance grew between them, she turned her head, instantly seeing the water canteen lying on the ground. Curious, wondering if Gilligan or Kincaid had dropped the item in a hurry, she carefully step over to it, bent down and picked up the container. As she turned the canteen in her tan, slender hands, she noticed the words, "_Property of Jonathan L. Kincaid_" on the neck of the item.

_So Kincaid must have dropped this, then, _she assumed.

"Mary Ann," Ginger called behind her in a concerned voice, "What's wrong?"

The Kansas girl shook her head, snapping herself out of her thoughts. She switched her gaze from the container she still held to her roommate and the Howells. They also had worried looks on their faces. All three of them stood a few feet away from her.

"Nothing, Ginger," Mary Ann said softly before glancing back at the item. "Nothing is wrong. I just discovered Kincaid's canteen and briefly wondered who lost it, Gilligan or him."

As much as the farm girl wanted to just let go of the item, abandon it on the grassy ground now that she knew who the owner was, she couldn't find it in herself to do so. She felt like she was playing the role of a detective in a school play, searching for clue after clue in order to help her find where the prize was located. Furthermore, she felt like she was about to stumble upon something very important to her. Yet, in order to accomplish them both, she needed the container so she could locate the winning prize and solve the mystery that kept bugging her thoughts.

Mary Ann's eyes wandered down to the ground in front of her. "Look, guys," she spoke, suddenly feeling anxious again. "There's been a scuffle here." Her three companions came forward, halting at the edge where the island met the cliff, and looked down, seeing what the young Castaway was talking about.

The brunette looked further up the cliff and gasped in shock, feeling her heart skip several beats as her doe brown eyes spotted something else lying on the ground. An item she prayed fervently had just fallen off the owner as he ran away and not from the horrible scenario that played repeatedly in her head.

That item was the first mate's sailor hat.

"Mary Ann, dear," Mrs. Howell uttered, anxiety coloring her tone after hearing the young woman's loud gasp.

The Kansas girl didn't answer the wealthy lady at first, feeling numb with shock at what she found in front of her. She didn't need the scientist's help in order to fit all the pieces together. She knew what had happened to the sailor. Now she had to inform Mr. and Mrs. Howell and Ginger, who apparently haven't noticed the last item, then go to the edge of the cliff and search for the body.

"Ginger, Mr. and Mrs. Howell," she hesitated before turning to face them, her heart now beating at a rapid pace. "I think I know where Gilligan is," Mary Ann explained with a lump in her throat.

"You do?" the movie star asked in surprise. "Where?"

The farm girl slowly shifted her head and pointed her index finger in front of her, "As you can see, there's Gilligan's hat. Now, if you put all the clues together, you can figure out what happened here. Which means," she stammered, heart sinking into her stomach as a horrible thought about her best friend's fate entered her mind. She took a slow, deep breath before continuing on, "Which means that Gilligan and Kincaid must have gotten into a fight and…and…fell off the cliff," she ended, breaking down into sobs.

Immediately, the brunette heard two gasps filled with horror and a, "Egad!" from the millionaire as the news began to sink in about the youngest Castaway's fate. They knew the young man had died from the impact of the long fall because all four had seen the distance between the cliff and the beach in the past. No one could survive a hard fall like that and lived to tell the story. Nevertheless, it would be a true miracle if the former Navy sailor _did_ actually survive such a fall like this.

Ginger and Mrs. Howell started to cry while Mr. Howell cleared his throat a few times. Gently, he reached for the two women and held them to his chest, not once minding the salty tears as they splashed onto his expensive clothes.

Bravely and with a heavy heart, Mary Ann moved cautiously towards the edge of the cliff, unaware that down below her best friend was still alive and in dire need of medical attention. With tears still dripping from her sad eyes, she slowly lowered herself to her hands and knees.

Just as the young woman was about to look down, search for Gilligan's body, something on the beach caught her eye. Her gaze drifted towards the water and instantly froze, spotting the crumple and twisted body of one Jonathan Kincaid on the sandy ground. Since she was so far away, she couldn't see the branch sticking out of his body or the creepy expression on his once handsome face. Nor did she know whether the evil man was alive or dead. However, she could tell that the man was hurt somewhere from the large pool of blood that surrounded him.

But the Kanas girl wasn't going to worry about the hunter right now. Right now, her goal was to find her best friend.

Mary Ann shifted her head, her eyes moving away from Kincaid's form and the beach as she continued to look for Gilligan. While she searched, the other three Castaways had inched closer to the farm girl. The millionaire's arms still held his wife and the beautiful actress tightly to him while both women continued to cry, the warm salty liquid running down their faces like a waterfall. Mr. Howell held his breath, waiting to hear the dreaded but expected news that the dear boy had perished.

The hot sun beaten down on their heads, sweat dotted their foreheads. Quickly, Mary Ann brushed it off with the sleeve of her sweater and resume her search, her eyes scanning every inch below in a hungrily fashion for her dear friend. Finally, after what felt like hours to her but was only a few seconds, she located the first mate.

If the Kansas girl thought the sight of the hunter was bad, what she saw before her was twenty times worse.

"Oh my God! Gilligan!" Mary Ann screamed in horror as she flatted her figure against the rough stone ground. Her small, slender hands lay flat on the rocky surface of the cliff as she strained to peer down. A sharp intake of breath and two loud gasps were heard behind her as the others took a step closer and leaned over the rim, finding his injured body quickly. As this was happening, Mary Ann didn't turn around to see the horrified expressions she knew would be on their faces. She didn't even look when she heard more than one person losing their last meal behind her, for her eyes were glued upon the gruesome sight below.

_Blood, _the farm girl thought, extremely alarmed at the amount. _There's so much blood. Could he still be alive after losing so much?_

On a rocky ledge about a thousand feet below was her best friend. And he was hurt, badly. Gilligan lay on his back, his eyes close and his face scrunched up in pain. Above his right eyebrow was a wide and deep gash, which is where the blood came from as it trickled down the first mate's forehead, down his nose until it dropped to the side where the substance approached the tip. Furthermore, Mary Ann could see that her fellow Castaway had a few cuts on the left side of his face.

Her eyes traveled lower, over his pasty and sweaty face, before finally resting on his lips. Once there, she noted how blue the former Navy sailor's lips were and wondered briefly if it happened to be the cold or something else that might be causing the unnatural color.

The brunette continued on, her gaze traveling down her friend's physique. A second later, she spotted the unnatural shape of his right shoulder, instantly knowing that he had dislocated it, probably when he landed on the ledge. Then she saw a small pool of blood beside him and assumed he had a few cuts that bleed from earlier. But from the height and angle she was at, she couldn't tell if he was still bleeding or not.

Next, Mary Ann's eyes switched to the opposite arm. She couldn't see the injury from where she laid, but knew Gilligan was hurt there by the pool of blood laying on the rocky ground beside his extremity. As she shifted her sight to move on, the unnatural blue color of his fingers and bright redness of his expose fresh caught her attention. She winced sharply at how painful the sunburn appeared. Thankfully, the burn hasn't reached his face or he would have been in some serious agony there. And with the strange color on his digits, she began to suspect that it wasn't the cold that caused the odd shade. It had to be something else, something more important than simple coldness.

As the first mate's stomach came into Mary Ann's view, she gasped loudly in shock at the horrifying sight before her. Her mind froze, unable to comprehend what she was seeing as icy water course through her veins at a rapid pace. She could see through the bottom of his red polo shirt a large hole about the size of her fist in his lower abdomen, blood leaking from the serious wound. She became aware that most of the blood he'd loss was from that area and that he continued to lose it as seconds went by. However, that wasn't the scary part. What frightened her most was noticing some vital parts that belong in the stomach showing through the gap in his skin.

If the Kansas girl hadn't grown up on a farm and seen a lot of gross stuff, she would be puking her guts out right now like the other Castaways did a minute ago. However, that doesn't mean she wasn't affected by the disgusting view. No, she felt her midsection roll dangerously, like any minute now she would lose any food she had inside her. Luckily, after a few minutes and several slow, even breaths that didn't happen to her.

Finally, she noticed the broken leg on the sailor's left side. From what she could see through his torn and shredded pants leg and current position, his left extremity was in an awkward angle it shouldn't be in, the bone visibly pressing against his fair skin. It was possible from such a long fall that he could have multiple breaks in the limb. A closer examination would tell how many, though.

All in all, Gilligan was in a serious situation that could easily turn into a fatal one. The question was, were the four Castaways too late in arriving?

Well, she won't know until she called out to him.

Swallowing hard while butterflies with huge wings flew around inside her tightly knotted abdomen, Mary Ann called out to her best friend, who lay motionless, "Gilligan? Can you hear me?"

The farm girl waited in silence for several seconds, ears straining to pick up the slightest sound to indicate that the youngest Castaway was still with them on Earth. She heard nothing, not even an inhalation from him.

"Gilligan!" She shouted, fear rising in her heart and soul, gnawing at her abdomen. "If you can hear me, please make a sound. Any sound."

Mary Ann pushed her small frame forward, daringly close to the edge, trying to see closer. She listened hard for any sounds, praying silently that her beloved friend would call for her. Again, she heard nothing but the sounds of nature around her.

"Please be alive! Please be alive! Please be alive!" She heard Mrs. Howell muttered over and over again.

The brunette took a deep breath and prepared to call out again. "Gilligan! Can you hear me? Come on, Gilligan, answer me, dammit!" she cried frantically.

Mary Ann looked over her right shoulder, her gaze landed on the rich lady. "Sorry, Mrs. Howell," she apologize sincerely.

Mrs. Howell gave the young woman a small, watery smile. "Under the circumstances, I suppose you can be exempted from the propriety just this once."

The Kansas girl was about to thank Mrs. Howell when she heard a sound coming from below. A soft moaned had escaped from his gaping blue lips and floated towards the four frightened Castaways.

"Gilligan," she muttered quietly to herself in a dream-like way. "Gilligan!" She yelled in excitement, breathing a deep, long sigh of relief after hearing the noise, even though it was soft and short.

Mary Ann switched her sight from the prone figure of the first mate to Mr. and Mrs. Howell and Ginger. "I heard him!" she exclaimed happily, her eyes sparkling with joy. "I heard Gilligan. The sound was very soft but I heard him. He's alive." She then turned around, her attention back on the young sailor as the others hugged each other in elation, "Gilligan, can you make another sound, please."

Her request was met with an even better reward then. She was gifted with hearing her best friend's voice. "Ohhh…Mary…Ann. Help…me…" she heard the first mate, though his voice sounded extremely weak and desperate. The farm girl was keenly aware of the pain in her best friend's voice and knew instantly, without having to be told, that the injured Castaway was hurting and obviously in a great amount of agony.

Mary Ann heard behind her various forms of relief and happiness and a muttered, "Thank you, Lord! Thank you!" as the millionaires and the movie star were able to hear the young man's voice finally.

* * *

A female voice repeatedly called out to him. Gilligan thought lazily for a moment about ignoring the sweet voice, assuming it was another hallucination that came back to make sure he didn't fall asleep or give up. However, the decision to disregard the voice was in vain because it kept pestering him in a very loud tone.

The first mate stirred slightly, moaning tiredly. He wasn't asleep yet, but he was very close to it. All he wanted was to sleep, but his best friend's voice dragged him closer and closer to reality. Finally, his eyes fluttered then opened slowly. He struggled to focus and see through the bright light that seemed to surround him, while simultaneously blinding him and causing him to see little black dots in his vison.

Someone with a higher power must have heard the young sailor's unconscious wish because the bright light shifted away, shining in another direction from him.

When the youngest Castaway could see, he saw four out of six faces of the people he loved most in the world and unshed tears filled the tired, dull blue eyes.

_Forget it, Gilligan, _he scolded himself, squashing the rising hope growing inside him. _What you're seeing isn't real. It's just another hallucination. Your family isn't here. They are back in the cave, either waiting for the hunt to be over or to see my dead body._

The former Navy sailor waited for the faces to disappear as they had earlier and was surprised when they didn't. "Mary…Ann?" he whispered hoarsely, knowing that she wouldn't be able to hear him.

When his best friend called again, asking him to make a sound, Gilligan tried to speak louder, as loud as he could with his lack of breathing properly. "Mary…Ann," he replied in a weakened voice, louder this time, but not loud enough for the people above him to hear.

After hearing the Kansas girl called to him once more and vaguely catching the cuss word, he allowed a groaned to escape between his parted blue lips.

Mary Ann must have heard the slightly louder sound because the first mate could hear her happiness as well as the others. She then called his name a few more times, requesting once more for a sound, any sound. So he did, only this time he didn't answer with a moan or a groan. He replied back with, "Ohhh…Mary…Ann. Help…me…" His voice was heavily laced with pain and weakness.

"Mary…Ann? Are…you really…here?"

"Yes, Gilligan. I'm here. The Howells and Ginger are with me too. Don't worry, Gilligan, we will get you off that ledge soon, I promise."

With that said, his best friend vanished from his sight. Leaving the young sailor alone and with hope filling every inch of his form, overshadowing the agony he felt for a few seconds.

He would be off the ledge soon. He just had to be patient a little while longer. That shouldn't be too hard. After all, he had been waiting for help to arrive for over seven hours, so what another ten minutes going to do to him?

* * *

Mary Ann blew out a breath as she rose to her feet and turned around to face Mr. and Mrs. Howell and Ginger. The expressions on their faces mirrored hers, fright and worried. All four of the Castaways had seen how badly Gilligan have been hurt and knew they would be running against the clock to save his precious life. Wasting even a minute could change the outcome drastically.

The Kansas girl thoughts raced wildly. _How on Earth will we get Gilligan off the ledge in his condition? _She thought, swallowing hard.

"What do we do now?" the movie start asked no one in particular, moving away from the millionaire while wiping the remaining tears from her eyes and face. "We obviously can't leave him there in his current condition."

"Indeed," Mr. Howell agreed solemnly, a frown crawling onto his wrinkled feature. "We have to do something to get the dear boy off that awful ledge.

"I don't know, Ginger," Mary Ann replied, answering her roommate's first question, her thoughts racing for a solution. "I don't know."

The farm girl spun around and glanced back down at the situation the first mate was in. She gulped audibly as she quickly studied how far the ledge was from where they stood. The distance was much too far to simply 'jump down' without getting hurt. And the distance between the ledge and the beach was too long to climb. It would take forever to get to the sailor that way and probably more difficult as well. The only solution to get to Gilligan was…. Mary Ann gulped, realizing what she would have to do.

She turned back around and faced the other Castaways, feature set in determination that her plan would succeed. "Okay, this is what we need to do," the brunette began, giving out orders to her roommate and the Howells. "Ginger, you come with me back to camp. We need to get the first-aid box and any supplies we can think of that we might need for Gilligan. I'm no doctor and I could be wrong when I say this, but from appearance-wise, I say Gilligan might not make it back to camp, even on a stretcher. So we need to get everything we might possibly be able to use, even if we use it at a later date, now. It would be a waste of time if we have to go back to camp for every little thing we had forgotten. Okay?"

The actress nodded her head, "Got it!"

"What should we do, dear?" Mrs. Howell inquired, wanting to help out, which would be the first time ever. This wasn't just another project to help them survive on the island. This was about rescuing the poor boy that had a special spot in her and her husband's heart. So she was willing to do anything and everything that was in her power to help rescued and save the dear boy.

Mary Ann turned to the married couple. "Mr. and Mrs. Howell, your job is simple. I need you to stay here with Gilligan. Talk to him and have him make sounds frequently to let you know that he's still with you. And make sure he doesn't go to sleep. We might not be able to reach him if he does."

"We understand," Mr. Howell chimed in, taking his wife's hand in his, which added an extra measure of comfort to the both of them.

The Kansas girl nodded her head in acknowledgement. "Everyone know their jobs? Okay, good. Let's go, Ginger. We don't have a lot of time and we need to hurry." Both girls ran off the cliff and through the jungle.

After the two women had left, Mrs. Howell whispered, "I do hope the dear boy will survive this!"

"Don't worry, Lovey," her husband said solemnly, patting her arm gently. "The boy is strong. He _will _pullthrough_ this! _He has too! However, he will need our help in order to do it."

"I hope so, Thurston," she said, her voice slightly strained with emotion. "I really hope so. I can't bear the thought of losing him."

Mr. Howell gently squeezed her hand in reassurance, a multitude of unidentified emotion swimming around in his champagne brown eyes. "Likewise, but we will do everything we can to prevent that from happening. I promise. Now, let's go to Gilligan and see if we can get a few words out of him, hmm."

So the couple walked carefully to the edge of the cliff and slowly bent down, the view of the first mate coming to them clearly. Both husband and wife opened their mouths and began calling to the young man below, hoping with everything they had in their possession that he would stay with them.

* * *

As the two women ran the few miles back to camp, both Castaways didn't have to worry about running into Kincaid this time as they tore through the jungle. They knew while they were at the cliff what had happened to him. The hunter couldn't hurt them anymore. Of course, they still had to worry about Ramoo, however, that wasn't the big problem right now.

About fifteen minutes later, Mary Ann and Ginger arrived at the campsite; both were hot and tired from the long distance they had just run. Yet they couldn't rest right now. They had to get the first-aid box and any other supplies they might need for the first mate. Both Castaways knew that they could rest later, once they had the sailor off that horrible ledge and recovering nicely from his multiple injuries.

The move star ran to the supply hut and started grabbing items and placing them in her arms while the Kansas girl hurried across camp to get to the bamboo car that the Professor and Gilligan had made about two months ago. The small vehicle had two jobs. It taxied the Howells around the island as well as transporting large loads from one place to another. The car was supposed to make carrying a large load of items easier and faster than if they had just carried it in their arms and walked. And that is why she'd chosen the bamboo car. She knew before the two of them had separated from the Howells that their load would be large and possibly heavy, not to mention the running they would have to do on the return trip. So taking the vehicle would make their lives much easier.

Mary Ann jumped inside and pedaled the bamboo car over to the door of the supply hut. Just as she exited the vehicle, Ginger emerged from the hut. In one hand, she held the bamboo handle of a large bamboo tool-box, which contained their first-aid supplies and a few medical items like a stethoscope made from vines and half of a gourde. In the other hand, she had a box of matches and a wicker basket containing ingredients to make soup or broths and a container filled with clean and cool water. And in her arms she carried extra blankets and pillows.

The farm girl opened the back car door for the actress before swiftly making her way inside the supply hut. A few minutes later, she came out with two flashlights, the radio, seven wooden plates, bamboo cups, and utensils, and a few other items they might possibly need. She quickly loaded up the bamboo car with her load.

"Ginger," Mary Ann called, grabbing her roommate's attention beside her. "Get the machete and a few other weapons and put them in with the rest of the load. We might not need them, but in case we have to defense ourselves against Ramoo, it's better that we have the weapons with us. Also, I will need you to grab the two portable oxygen tanks and masks, the climbing equipment, and the stretcher."

"Okay," the redhead agreed, starting to make her way back to the supply hut for the aforementioned items, especially the last four that washed up in tightly close boxes on the island from ships and airplanes. However, she stopped when she saw Mary Ann heading to the hut they both shared together. "Mary Ann, where are you going?"

Without pausing in her steps, the brunette quickly answered Ginger. "I need to change my skirt. The wind keeps blow the fabric up and I don't want to worry about it while we rescued Gilligan. So I'm going to change into some pants," she lied, not wanting to reveal the true reason for the change of garments. She knew she would have to tell the Howells what she was up to and would undoubtedly have to argue with them in order to set her plan in motion. She knew that what she wanted to do wasn't proper or ladylike. But right now, she didn't really care about decorum or other such nonsense. Those things wouldn't be able to save her best friend from his current situation.

Mary Ann continued to her hut, opened the door when she reached the building, and stepped inside. She hurried to her bamboo dresser and quickly opened the bottom drawer, grabbing her olive brown jeans. Shutting the drawer, she took off her short, blue skirt and her white boots. Then, she put on her jeans and returned her boots to her sock-covered feet. Finally, she placed her skirt on her twin-size bamboo bed before exiting the hut.

When the Kansas girl met up with her roommate by the vehicle, Ginger was in the process of loaded the last bundled of supplies she had requested. She ran over to the movie star and helped her with the last few items.

"Phew," Ginger said, wiping her arm across her sweaty forehead. "I think we basically just cleaned out the supply hut of everything we had inside it."

Mary Ann nodded her head in agreement. "I know, and we might not even need half of these items. But it's better to be safe than sorry."

"True."

"Okay, Ginger. I need you to do something else for me. I need you to go find the Professor and Skipper and let them know that we have found Gilligan. Tell them about the cliff and how serious Gilligan is hurt. And Ginger," the farm girl paused in her order.

The beautiful actress met her roommate's eyes. "Yeah?"

"Take this, just in case," Mary Ann said, handing Ginger the second machete. "And please hurry."

Ginger took the weapon and nodded her head. "I will," she promised before running back into the jungle, searching for the intellectual and the captain.

Mary Ann allowed a long sigh to escape from her lips before she jumped back into the bamboo car and pedaled swiftly in the direction of the cliff.

* * *

**A/N: **You know what to do. Review and tell me what you thought of this chapter. Btw, I did do the Ice Bucket Challenge and donated some money today. I'm still slightly cold from the water and ice I poured on myself. It was fun, though. Below is the title and summary of the sequel to this story:

**When You Need Family the Most. Summary: **Set after "The Hunter" episode. With the hunt finally over, Gilligan now has to face the demons of his nightmares and memories. Will he allow the Castaways to help him deal with his emotional scars or will he pushed them away? What if the scars morphed into physical ones? What will they do then? Dark themes. Emotional breakdowns, panic attacks, cutting, possible thoughts of suicide. Rated M. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. - Don't worry, no one dies and everyone will get their Happy ever after at the end of the story. Plus, there will be MAG and Pinger going on in the middle and end of the story.

Finally, I forgot to post the list of injuries Gilligan has in the last chapter so here they are: Cuts, bruises, scrapes, gash, shock, dehydration, sunburn, cut on lip from biting too hard, stomach wound (from bullet), arm wound (from bullet; left), dislocated right shoulder, concussion, broken leg (from fall; left), broken ribs (3), bruise ribs (4), and head wound.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed forty-two stories of Gilligan being the star of the show.


	11. Standing Beside You until the End

**A/N: **Hey, I'm back! I'm so, so sorry for taking such a long time to update (four months in fact), but I had a good excuse as to why. I'm in college and it has to come first, unfortunately. Anyway, I thought I would be nice and give you all your Christmas present a day early. The length is pretty long, which should make you all happy. And before I forget, I just wanted to say that you're all amazing! This story reached 100 reviews altogether! You guys rock! Now can you help me reach 150 before this story is over? You would make me a very happy author if you do. Merry Christmas and Have a Happy New Years. Or whatever holiday you're celebrating right now.

**Molly: **Thank you for you review on the last chapter. I found out that I made a mistake with the height of the fall. It's not a thousand feet like I thought, but a hundred feet. Sorry for the confusion.

**Note: **There's a line in this chapter that was taken from the Disney movie called, "Cadet Kelly." Also, there's a part or two at the end of this chapter that isn't mine. The wonderful idea came from the amazing DaleJr.88. Finally, I don't know that much about first-aid or climbing so please excuse any information that is wrong here.

This chapter has finally been edited by my beta, Minch. Thank you once again for putting up with my numerous mistakes. If you have any questions about this chapter, please don't hesitate to send me a message or let me know in a review.

I don't own _Gilligan's Island. _Unfortunately, Sherwood Schwartz does. If I were the creator, I would have did the whole Hunter episode differently. However, I'm only allowed to play with his characters.

* * *

**Eleven**

**Standing Beside You until the End**

When Mary Ann returned to the scene in the bamboo car, she spotted Mr. and Mrs. Howell carefully crouched down at the edge of the cliff top, peering down as they spoke to Gilligan. Once the vehicle was completely parked, she jumped out and opened the left passenger's side door. As the Kansas girl pulled item after item from the car at a swift pace, the married couple asked the first mate how he was doing.

For several long moments, no sound or reply came from the occupant on the ledge. While they all waited impatiently for a response, the farm girl gathered up the things she would need at the moment and placed them in a pile beside her. Then she grabbed a large, inky black climbing backpack and filled the bag up. The pretty brunette filled it with the medical supplies, a canteen of water, two blankets and a pillow, and finally, a small portable oxygen tank and mask. Once the backpack was full with all the necessary objects, she closed the bag and buckled it, preventing the contents from falling out during the climb down. When she heard the soft _click _sound, she knew the buckle was tightly secured.

Mary Ann had just moved on to the black duffel bag, which contained the climbing equipment, when the three uninjured Castaways finally heard the young sailor's broken response. "I'm…not…feeling…too good…right now. I feel…like…flames…are…licking up…my body, both…inside…and out…" he trailed off as a groaned bubbled up his throat and out of his mouth. "It's…hurts! Oh…God, does…it hurt!" He cried out in a weak voice.

Not pausing in her self-imposed task to inform the youngest Castaway that she had come back, the Kansas girl carried the backpack and duffel bag to the palm tree growing off to the right of the cliff. Then she set the two bags down, bent down, and unzipped the duffel. As the farm girl pulled out the climbing equipment, she couldn't help but recalled the last time she scaled down a wall.

To Mary Ann, it seemed like it happened just yesterday. However, that wasn't true. The last time she used climbing equipment was on her 16th birthday in 1958 at the Winfield Recreational center. Her family had a tradition that when it was a person's birthday, he or she would picked the activity or activities the family participated in for the day. And since it was Mary Ann's day, she received the choice of what the day agenda would be. Of course, she picked the rec center because she like to get dirty and do stuff that no proper lady would ever do, thanks to living and working on her family's farm.

She was broke from her reminiscing of the past by two things happened simultaneously: the quiet, soothing words from Mrs. Howell to the former Navy sailor and the soft, swishing sounds of sand and grass under someone shoes as they came closer and closer to the brunette.

"What on Earth are you doing, dear?" Mr. Howell inquired as he stopped beside her.

Mary Ann halted for a few moments and looked up, a long thick brown rope encased in her two slender hands. Doe eyes met champagne brown as she answered his question. "I'm preparing the equipment so I can rappel down to him."

The millionaire shook his head, a deep frown appearing on his handsome aging face, "No, dear. It's far too dangerous. We should wait for the Professor and the Skipper to arrive."

"Mr. Howell," the Kansas girl began in a polite manner, breaking eye contact with him. She resumed her task of readying the climbing equipment as she spoke in a soft tone. "I understand what you are saying. And I know the risk. I know we should wait for the others, the Professor should be the one to go down since he had more knowledge of first-aid than all of us combined. However, waiting on them could take a while and we don't have that kind of time on our hands. I don't want to leave Gilligan alone down there any longer than he should. He has been alone for far too long as it is.

"Besides," the farm girl resumed, her hands moving quickly in front of her. "Gilligan is still bleeding and he has already lost a dangerous amount of blood as it is. Someone needs to go down there and stop it while we wait for the Professor, Skipper, and Ginger to get here. Now, here's my plan: I'm going to rappel down, and not to be rude or anything, but you can't do it because you're too heavy and Mrs. Howell and I won't be able to pull you back up."

After the brunette uttered that last sentence, she broke her focus on what she was doing to lock eyes once again with the kind and loving millionaire, who stood beside her with an unreadable expression. Her features softened a bit, seeing the mixture of worry and uncertainty that shone in his eyes a couple of seconds later.

"Don't worry," Mary Ann whispered, comprehension swimming in her depthless eyes. "I have done this before, several times, in fact. I know what to do. But I give you my word that I will be careful." Off in the distance, the two Castaways could hear Mrs. Howell communicating with the first mate as they spoke. The words exchanged between the two members were unknown to the older man and young girl because they were wrapped up in their own conversation at the same time.

Mr. Howell sighed heavily and gave his acceptance with a grim look on his face. "I know you will, dear. While I can see both sides of the story, I still don't care for the idea of you going down there. Hold on. Please," he said, raising his hand in a gesture to keep quiet when he saw the Kansas girl opening her mouth to protest, "here me out, dear. As I said, I don't much care for the idea, but I won't stop you. I agree wholeheartedly with you, the dear boy had already loss an enormous amount of blood and if we don't stop it, we could lose him. We might still lose him. With you by his side, it might actually give us all a chance to save him. I'm willing to do anything and everything if it means that I won't have to stand here, helpless and waiting to see if the Professor arrives in time or see the last moments of Gilligan's life slipping away." Mary Ann caught the several cracks in his gruff voice; the first began with the part about losing the sailor until the very end of his heartfelt speech.

The farm girl dropped a few locking carabiners and stood up, facing the millionaire. She gently took his hand in hers and squeezed, silently reassuring him that she would do everything she could while she was down there with the youngest Castaway. The return squeeze from Mr. Howell told the brunette that he had heard her silent promise and knew that she would be safe. Both of them were not willing to give up the young man that had made such a huge impact on all of their lives without a fierce fight.

Mary Ann sighed, breaking the silent communication they were exchanging. "Well, I better finish preparing the equipment for the climb."

"Of course," the millionaire softy agreed, backing up a step. "I'll tell Lovey the plan."

"She won't like it," the young woman pointed out gently, not trying to sound rude or sarcastic. "She will probably say climbing down isn't proper or ladylike."

"I know. But we don't have a choice if we want to save the poor boy."

Mr. Howell turned around and walked back to his wife's side as the Kansas girl kneeled on the soft ground and picked up the locking carabiners.

As the farm girl returned to her work, she could hear the slightly heated argument the Howells were having several feet away about her descending down the cliff's side. She wasn't surprised when she heard Mrs. Howell protesting about it not being proper and safe for a young, beautiful girl like her.

The brunette didn't hear Mr. Howell's calm response for he spoke in a low tone of voice. But she was pretty sure she knew what he'd said.

After finishing up with the selected items in her tan hands, she was officially set to rappel down the cliff.

Mary Ann picked up the yellow helmet and placed it over her chocolate locks before buckling it under her chin. Once she'd made sure the helmet was on correctly and secure, she grabbed the black gloves and slipped them on her slender hands. Then she plucked the black harness from the ground and attached it to her small body. After that was accomplished, she took the rope and looped one end through the holes on the harness and the locking carabiners, pulling the extra bit out of the way. Then she tied the other end to the middle section of the tree beside her. She made three tight knots and checked the rope twice to make sure it was safely secure and tight.

Once the Kansas girl was satisfied with her handiwork, she grabbed the heavy black backpack and slung it over her small shoulders. After that, she took the remaining piece of rope and held it in her hands as she walked to the end of the cliff, make sure the line didn't get caught on anything during the short journey.

When the farm girl arrived at the edge of the cliff top, Mr. and Mrs. Howell had just finished their conversation and stood beside her, their worried eyes switching from the youngest Castaway below them to the young woman next to them, who was about to do something dangerous in order to save the life of her best friend. Or at least give the rest of the Castaways more time before they permanently lost him.

The brunette tossed the rest of the rope over the cliff, the line smacking the rough, uneven rocks hard as it rapidly slid down the side, before turning to face the Howells. She could see several emotions showing clearly in their eyes and the displeasure forming softly on their lips. However, she knew that they had agreed with her on this despite not liking the plan. She knew they were only looking out for her well-being, which is why she wasn't upset with them. Quite the opposite, actually.

"I will be careful," she told the rich lady, repeating her vow from earlier with her husband. "I promise."

"I know you will," Mrs. Howell replied kindly as she patted the young woman's cheek gently.

Mary Ann took a long, deep breath before nodding her head. All of a sudden she felt nervous since she'd never done this far of a distance before whenever she climbed in the past. "Mr. Howell," she addressed the wealthy man. "Will you please hold onto the rope so it won't get caught on anything while I rappel down?"

"Certainly, my dear."

"Okay," she said slowly, still a little nervous. "Here I go."

The Kansas girl turned around, her back now facing the rim of the cliff. Slowly, she took two steps backwards while both glove-covered hands held tightly to the thick brown rope that was in front of her. She took another step back and stopped. With her feet now touching the edge, she gradually and carefully eased herself over the rim and began making her way down the cliff's rocky front. The distance between her and the Howells grew as she moved one foot and then the other, nothing else but the task in front of her on her mind. What the farm girl was doing was quite dangerous and if she didn't focus all of her attention on the climb, she could make a huge mistake that could seriously cost her. She didn't want that to happen, so she pushed everything but the climb from her mind.

The brave brunette did a couple of small jumps in order to get over a few rocks that were in her path before glancing down, seeing if she would have to jump a few more times or not. When she didn't see any more obstacles in her way, she checked the rope above her; make sure the line was still taut and not caught on any rocks. The line was okay so she continued on, trekking down at a leisurely pace. Her breathing was heavy, coming in short bursts while beads of sweat ran down her creased forehead. The muscles in her hands, arms, and legs were tight and strained as she worked her way down the cliff, each step taking her just a little bit closer to the former Navy sailor.

While Mary Ann proceeded downwards, Mr. Howell stood at the end of the cliff top, holding the rope beside him in a straight line while Mrs. Howell had lowered herself to her hands and knees, hovering over the edge. They held their breaths and watched anxiously as the young woman hiked further and further down the cliff. Their eyes never strayed from her person once during the long, tense journey.

As the Howells watched the nerve-wracking scene before them, they both prayed silently that nothing would go wrong and that Mary Ann would make it to Gilligan's side safety. However, if something _did _go wrong, the couple was fully prepared to pull the girl up to the top, whether she protested or not. The husband and wife didn't want the first mate to die, but they weren't going to risk losing another member of their group either. If the worst should come, all three Castaways would just wait for the others to come before they would try another attempt at reaching the young sailor on the ledge.

The Kansas girl halted in her steps and shifted her head downwards, measuring mentally with her eyes the distance she still had left before she would reached her best friend. She estimated she had about fifty feet to go before she could land on the ledge.

"Mary Ann, are you quite alright, dear?" The millionaire asked her from above, concern highlighting his gruff tone of voice.

The farm girl's dark eyes traveled away from the direction of the ledge and looked up, noticing the wealthy couple were watching her like a pair of hawks from atop of the cliff. She also saw that Mr. Howell was still holding the rope like she asked. She nodded her head, hands gripping the rope tightly and feet digging into the rocky wall. "I'm fine. Nothing is wrong. I'm just seeing how much further I have to go before I can reach Gilligan."

"Okay, but please let us know if you need us to pull you back up."

"I will, Mr. Howell," she lied before resuming her trek down the rough and rocky cliff.

About five minutes later, Mary Ann stopped again and decided to check the rope. It's lucky she did because she immediately discovered the rope was caught on a sharp edge of a rock two feet below her. She moved her left hand below her, as far as it could go on the line, before grasping the rope tightly in her palm and pulled. As she tugged at the line, trying to get the rope loose from the jagged rock that held it tightly, she began to struggle as seconds past her by with no success.

The brunette girl paused her current action and racked her brain for ideas, trying to come up with some new approaches to solving the problem she faced. One new method came to mind, so she tried it out. She tried her best to maneuver the rope away from the brown rock from the awkward angle she was hanging at. However, several threads of the line was firmly attached to the sharp edge and didn't seem like they would let go anytime soon. Unless Mary Ann came up with another good idea, she would remained stuck there on the side of the cliff until the Professor came and got her.

Now, the Kansas girl wasn't too proud to ask for help when she knew she needed it. However, she did not want the other Castaways to discover the predicament she was currently in. She would feel _so_ embarrassed. All the Castaways came to rescue Gilligan, not the both of them. Plus, her situation would just prove what all five Castaways already knew. She was too young and weak to do something dangerous, and the first chance she got to disprove that fact ended with her needing saving.

Oh sure, she knew the others had never told her directly that she was weak nor had they spoken the words out loud in her presence. She just had this odd feeling, this vibe that they were sending off like they actually thought she was delicate as a flower, but were too polite and nice to say it to her face. She didn't know if it was true or false, this feeling that she was receiving. For all she knows, she could just be reading into something that wasn't there at all.

The farm girl shook her head. It doesn't matter if she was misreading the problem with the others or just imaging it. The point was she most definitely did not want to be the one that was rescued. She wanted to be on the other side of that coin.

So with that thought set firmly in her mind and sudden determination spreading like wildfire in her veins, the brunette attempted to escape once again from the sharp rock. She knew it wouldn't work, but she wanted to try the two methods she had used when she first found out she was stuck to see if they would work this time. After all, you'll never know unless you try. So that's what she did.

Mary Ann tugged at the rope again and again but the line was still stuck. Since the first idea was still not working, she quickly switched to the next one; maneuvering the rope away from the rock. No such luck. As minutes ticked by, her frustration grew. The Kansas girl happened to be a very patient person, but as every attempt to free herself failed, her annoyance rose higher and higher the longer she was stuck hanging there. She continued to try every possible method she knew in order to get the rope loose. She even lowered herself closer to the problem and tugged on the rope, thinking the shorter distance would help in freeing herself. But none of the methods she used seemed to be very successful.

The farm girl glanced down, measuring the distance while trying to make a decision on what she should do. None of the ideas that came to her were working in her favor. If the distance between her and the ledge was small, she would jump the rest of the way down. The move was very risky and dangerous, she was fully aware of that. She knew she could injure herself or fall on Gilligan and hurt him even more. The worst outcome was missing the ledge altogether and becoming a pancake on the beach. The brunette shuddered at the disturbing image of herself lying in an unnatural position on the sandy ground, her skin pale and cold and large amounts of blood surrounding her broken body. Her pretty, brown doe eyes would be dull and void of liveliness and her kind and loving heart would never beat again.

_Just like Kincaid was when you discovered him lying motionless on the beach, surrounded by a circle of his own cold blood, _a voice in her head reminded her.

A shiver ran up Mary Ann's spine, not because she was cold but afraid. Very afraid of the upsetting vision that the horrible thought invoked which now refused to leave her alone. Instead, the picture of her on the beach, limp and lifeless kept running through her mind every minute she dwelled on her problem.

Turning her attention back on the situation at hand, the Kansas girl decided that if the gap between her and the ledge was too wide, she wouldn't take the chance and jump. Instead, she would just keep trying to get the rope free from the damn rock. She took another glance down.

Her thoughts flew by in a rush as the farm girl went over all of her options that she had at her disposal. Coming to a decision a minute later, she decided not to risk her safety. She was only a little below the halfway point and if she jumped now, she was pretty sure she would break several bones. Not to mention possibly hurt Gilligan. No, she would just resume her efforts on getting the line free.

"Can you make it, dear?" She heard Mrs. Howell's motherly voice floating on the gentle breeze around her.

Mary Ann shifted her head so she could speak to the married couple above her. She decided that she was no longer concerned with her own pride, just getting Gilligan to safety. "No, the rope is stuck on a jagged rock. I'm still too far away from the ledge, so I can't jump. It would be too risky. The only choice I have right now is to get the rope free," she yelled, twisting and wiggling the stuck section of the rope this time.

After what felt like an eternity to her but was only ten minutes, the brunette was able to get the rope free from the sharp edge of the rock. _Yes, I did it_, she silently cheered. _Finally, I got the rope free!_ She checked the line to see if it was cut from the jagged edge, but couldn't find any damage after examining it twice from her position above.

So Mary Ann continued to climb down the cliff, happiness swirling inside her now that she was able to move once again. As swiftly as her joy came, it soon disappeared once she remember that Gilligan was still on that ledge. So with that in mind, she went back to concentrating intently on the remaining climb. She took several, small measured jumps whenever she needed to and slow, steady steps once her path was free again.

After the Kansas girl took several more equally miniature steps backwards and down, she halted and took another peek down, measuring the remaining distance with her eyes. Suddenly, it dawned on her how close she was to the ledge and decided the small gap was safe enough to jump instead of walking it.

Taking another peek below her, she realized the ledge was big enough that she didn't have to worry about squashing Gilligan or missing the ledge and falling to her death. Sure, the ledge wasn't wide enough to hold several people, but if they were extremely careful, another person could safely stand on the ledge with Gilligan and her. She noted there was plenty of space above and below Gilligan's head and feet, but barely enough for more than one person to be standing or kneeling on the sides.

So taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, she jumped for the very last time, her feet safely touching the rough surface of the ledge.

The farm girl released the rope from her tight grip but choose not to unhook herself from the line. It was more of a safety precaution than a fear of falling. Then she took in her surroundings, noticing instantly that she was standing at the first mate's feet.

"I made it!" she told the Howells, her face directed upwards. "I'm okay."

Being mindful of the small space between the young sailor's right side and the ending of the ledge, the brunette carefully treaded her way around her best friend's form. She ended up kneeling at his right side, not caring that the blood which covered most of the ledge was soaking quickly into her olive brown jeans. Or the fact that she could smell the sharp, bitter, and sickly scent of vomit that was spewed out in a disgusting pool beside Gilligan's head. The stench was so found that it was almost unbearable. Yet she did her best to ignore it because all she cared about was stopping the blood and getting his wounds treated.

Mary Ann's worry gaze drifted up to the injured Castaway's face and noticed he had his eyes shut tightly, his whole face was scrunched up in extreme pain that lasted for minutes but probably felt like hours to him. Just as his features relaxed somewhat, she saw her best friend shiver violently as a cool breeze went past them. After seeing the involuntary reaction and the pain that was swiftly etched on his handsome face, she immediately went into action.

The Kansas girl slipped the backpack from her shoulders and swung it over to her right side, opening it in a rush while calling out the former Navy sailor's name. "Gilligan? Gilligan, can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes for me, okay?"

Gilligan stirred and let out a strangled moan but didn't open his eyes.

"Come on, Gilligan! Wake up," Mary Ann urged him, a hint of pleading in her tone. "I want to see those amazing blue eyes I love so much. Can you open them for me, please?" While she waited for the first mate to open his eyes, the farm girl turned her figure slightly away from him so she could rummage through the bag. She grabbed a soft, warm navy blue blanket and pulled it out. No pun intended.

The brunette folded the blanket a few times before laying the material on her best friend to keep him warm. The fabric only covered his shoulders and chest because she needed complete access to his abdomen wound. Furthermore, she didn't want the blood to soak into the blanket, causing the item to fail in keeping him warm.

Blackness. All the sailor could see was complete blackness. He was so very tired that it took his brain twice as long to realize that his eyes were closed. He wasn't asleep like he had first thought. He didn't even remember when he'd shut his eyes.

The former Navy sailor groaned, feeling too weary to open his eyes. He tried to claw his way out of the darkness, but every attempt he made was half-hearted and unsuccessful. In all of his young life, he'd never known such exhaustion until that very day. Not even the workouts he did back in the Navy or the numerous chores he had on the island could fully compare to the low feeling. The weariness ran straight to his bones, and doing something as simple as opening his eyes seemed like an impossible task to him.

Gilligan wasn't entirely sure how long he stayed in that particular state, when his ears picked up on the pleading voice of his best friend. Mary Ann's anxious voice kept calling out to him, unaware that she was slowly reaching him in the trap of the blackness that seemed to go on for miles and miles. There was no light nearby to see, but when he heard his best friend asking for him to open his eyes, he felt a small burst of energy flow through his veins. Behind his closed pale eyelids were small white sparks that went off like the Fourth of July fireworks. However, the small bit of energy wasn't nearly enough to move a muscle in his body, never mind give him strength to open his eyes.

Yet the lack of response to the Kansas girl's request didn't deter her from begging the first mate to crack those amazing ocean-blue eyes she loved so much open. And there was the energy again, pouring through his form while the white sparks grew in size and brightness, flashes of light seen through the endless darkness.

His best friend never stopped once in her calling out to him, refusing to leave him alone when all the sailor wanted was to go to sleep and have the pain leave him for good. But he couldn't and the young farm girl wasn't going to allow him to either. Energy was now surging inside him, filling every inch of him. The sparks grew bigger and more intense – almost blinding him in the process. The flashes of light had expanded and were constant now, hiding the blackness that he no longer could see.

The former Navy sailor finally felt like he had enough strength soaring within him, and with the brunette's insistent voice muddled in the background, he attempted once again to open his eyes.

It took Gilligan a minute to realize that he wasn't hallucinating, that the endless blue sky and white fluffy clouds were _really_ above him. And the bright light of the sun, which was brighter than the sparks and flashes, told him that his eyes were finally open.

The first mate blinked his eyes a few times, trying to focus his eyesight and banished the little black dots that the sun caused in his vision. A dark shadow formed above him, taking away the blinding sensation and the brightness from his face. With no sunlight bothering him now, the first thing he saw was Mary Ann's deeply concerned face hovering a few inches above him. The second thing he noticed was the warmth that surrounded his upper body, staving off some of the coldness that he had felt earlier.

"Mary…Ann, you're…here. H-how?" he asked, so shocked to see her that he wasn't thinking straight.

The Kansas girl gently took the young sailor's right hand in hers, lacing their fingers together before lightly squeezing his hand. "Yes, Gilligan, I'm here. As for how I'm beside you, I climbed down the cliff with the climbing equipment," she explained while pulling out a fluffy pillow from somewhere he couldn't see.

"Oh," he muttered to himself before directing his next statement to his best friend. "Stay…please?" he pleaded in his quiet, hoarse voice.

The farm girl gave the injured Castaway a small, sad smile while gently squeezing his hand which she still held. "Don't worry, Gilligan," she replied, swallowing hard. And the former Navy sailor was positive he could hear the emotion that his best friend tried her hardest to hide by clearing her throat a few times. Obviously, she didn't want him to know how scared she was for him and was trying her best to stay strong for him. She didn't need to, though.

"I'm not going anywhere. I planned to stay with you before I even came down here. I will be beside you until the Professor and the Skipper and the others figure out how to get you off this ledge. You're not alone anymore. I'm here now," she continued, her voice soft but shaky. Gilligan studied his best friend's face, not paying any mind to the concern or worry seen. What was new to him was the unusual mixture of determination, perseverance, and calmness seen in her soulful eyes. Truly a contradiction to the emotions written on her lovely features.

"Now, Gilligan," Mary Ann began in a stronger voice, breaking the silence that had descended upon the pair for the last couple of moments. "Do you have a head injury? Can you remember if you hit your head during the trip down or when you landed? It's important that I know so I won't accidently hurt your worse. I can see you have a gash and a few small cuts on your forehead. But I need to know if you have any other injuries I can't see right now."

The first mate tried to think for a minute, intending to answer the Kansas girl's question. Instead of seeking out information from his brain, all he gained from pondering was an achy headache, a slight ringing in his ears, and confusion since he couldn't remember if he had hit his head or not.

Not wishing to torture himself with the sought-after answer that would only cause him more unnecessary pain, the sailor man gave up on thinking. Vaguely, he wondered in confusion why he couldn't remember that particular information when he could remember several things after the fall. Several pieces of information that were slowly slipping away from his mental grasps.

The puzzled Castaway wanted to shake his head, but his head was still hurting like the dickens. Instead, his eyes focus on the farm girl as he replied, "I…can't…remember…if I…did…or not. I do…know…that…my head…is hurting…pretty awful…right now."

"What are the symptoms you're experiencing right now?" she asked him, tilting her head in curiosity.

"What?" He didn't understand what she was asking him.

"What I mean is, what are the signs? Exclude everything else you're feeling at the moment and concentrate only on your head. What are you feeling right now?" She rephrase.

"Umm…"the former Navy sailor began, frowning. "I have…a really…bad…headache…right…now. My…ears…are…ringing. I can't…remember…certain things…that I'm…pretty sure…I _could_….remember…._before_. And I'm…confused." His gaze, which was starting to cloud over, turned to look at the cliff beside him. When he slowly turned his attention back to his best friend a short time later, he gradually added more symptoms to the increasing list. "I'm…starting to…get dizzy again…and I'm…having trouble…seeing straight. Oh, and…I'm…feeling…nauseous too."

The brunette sighed. As for the reason why, Gilligan didn't know and probably would never know.

"Well, I'm not a doctor and I won't try to act like one either," Mary Ann admitted honestly. "I don't know if you have a concussion or not, and I hate to move your head without knowing. But I want to get you as comfortable as possible while we wait for the others to come. So I'm going to slowly and gently lift your head up and placed this pillow I have under you. This way, you will have something soft cushioning your head instead of that hard rock, which I'm sure is not helping you right now. The pillow might ease your headache a little."

"Okay, Mary…Ann," he whispered his agreement just before another burst of agony hit him. He barely even felt the comforting squeeze that she gave to his hand, for he was almost completely consumed in the pain that swirled around inside of him.

The Kansas girl let out a sad sigh before reluctantly separating her hand from the injured first mate. She absolutely loathed breaking the physical connection because it provided her with proof that the young man she had called her friend was still with her. Mary Ann could see he was alive with her very own eyes, but she didn't dare trust them. She thought they were playing tricks on her, showing her what she wanted so badly to see when it really wasn't there.

However, the farm girl needed her hands to grab the pillow, lift the young Castaway's head up with one hand while sliding the soft item under him with the other. She could do the first task with one hand but not the other two, which is why she released his hand a moment ago. She didn't want to cause any unnecessary pain to him with her careless actions.

The brunette decided that once she accomplished all of her tasks, her hand would soon be back in his. But for right now, she needed to get her best friend comfortable and check out his awful stomach wound to see what caused this much damage before she put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding.

Mary Ann addressed the former Navy sailor first, wishing to repeat her plan before she attempted it. She wanted to give him advance warning in case her careful actions happened to cause him some pain. "Okay, Gilligan. I'm going to lift your head up now. I will try my best to be gentle," she told him, moving closer to his head while trying to avoid kneeling in the puddle of sick.

The first mate didn't say anything, not that the Kansas girl expected him to. As she leaned over his upper body, she saw his jaw clench tightly and his wounded lip held hostage by his teeth. _I wondered if this is his way of bracing himself for more agony or if he is experiencing another bout of pain, _she thought, frowning deeply in concern. The sight before her broke her heart all over again. No one deserved to be in so much pain, especially someone like her best friend, who was kind to a fault and wouldn't hurt a fly.

The farm girl slid her empty hand under the young sailor's neck before moving it up a few inches to rest at the base of his head. Quickly but gently, she lifted his head a few inches off the small rock, before sliding the pillow under him. Once that was successfully accomplished, she slowly lowered his head back down, only this time the back of his head didn't come into contact with the hard rock but a very soft and fluffy pillow.

"There, we go. Does that feel better?" She asked, leaning away from him before encasing his hand in hers once again.

He blinked his eyes, pushing away some of the sweat from out of his eyes, "Much. Thank…you," he croaked.

Her lips rose, forming a small smile. "You're welcome, Gilligan."

With Gilligan being taken care of for a moment, she decided to check out his two wounds she had noticed earlier. She told her best friend what she intended to do and once she received his consent, she leaned over his form to check out the wound on his left arm.

The farm girl had never seen a gunshot wound in her young life, but it didn't take a genius like the Professor to realize that Gilligan has been hit with a bullet in the arm. Of course, her knowledge of knife wounds extended to the limited information she had on bullet wounds. However, she was pretty sure she was correct on her guess as she didn't know what else could cause a perfectly round circle in the flesh.

Mary Ann turned away from the gunshot wound on the arm and focus her attention on the most serious injury that Gilligan has sustained: the hole in the stomach.

As for the abdomen wound, that was an entirely different story. Like the wound on the first mate's arm, there was a perfectly round circle in the skin, however, that is as far as the similar go. The wound was much larger and appears to cause extended damage inside than the gunshot wound on his arm. She knew a knife wouldn't result in that kind of wound, but she wasn't entirely sure a bullet would either.

Could Kincaid had possibly used a different weapon that the Castaways weren't aware of that would cause so much damage as it did to Gilligan? Mary Ann didn't think the bayonet that was attached to the hunter's rifle could cause such a wound. So what did cause the wound in the stomach? Could it really have been from a gun? Did that monster used a different gun than the one he'd used when he hit Gilligan in the arm? How close was he when he hit Gilligan in the abdomen?

Mary Ann didn't know and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out either.

Then the youngest Castaway whispered something that was so soft that it forced the brunette to strain her ears and leaned closer to him once more. Immediately, she recognized the words 'water' and 'please.'

Mary Ann gave no verbal reply to Gilligan's request. Instead, she released his hand and crawled to her backpack which rested at his right hip, reaching for the canteen inside. Once the desired item was in her grasp, she returned to her former place below his right shoulder. She twist the cap off then lifted her best friend's head like she did from earlier.

"Here you go," she murmured, placing the canteen at his blue-tinged lips.

Greedily, the former Navy sailor grabbed for the container of water with his left hand, and if it wasn't for the Kansas girl holding the item firmly in her hand, he would have dropped it as his hand weakly encircled the object. He took several large gulps of cold, refreshing water before Mary Ann gently moved the canteen away from his mouth.

Gilligan looked at his best friend, a rare expression of pleading on his cut-up and hurt face. "Please…more," he begged without shame.

A shadow of uncertainly appeared in her dark eyes. "I don't know if you should have any more, Gilligan. I don't want you to get sick by drinking too much in such a short time. You obviously haven't had any water in hours."

"Please…" he pleaded once again with her.

She sighed loudly, giving into his wish. "Okay, but only a little bit more," the farm girl relented, bringing the cold, sweet liquid back to his parched lips. The first mate took several more large gulps, instantly regretting his rush to quench his thirst. His stomach abruptly knotted as the water gurgled deep inside. Suddenly, he turned his head away from the canteen and his friend before spewing the liquid onto the ground at his left side. Several more times he vomited, until all the liquid was gone, leaving him with nothing but the dry heaves and extreme agony that was surging up from his stomach wound. All the puking didn't help his wound but made it ten times worse after enduring all of those painful spasms that rolled across his broken body.

Behind him, the sailor could hear the brunette shifting around on the ledge and the soft rustling sound of the bag that she had brought down with her. He turned his head back to his right and saw his best friend was in her old spot again, this time holding a small washcloth in her right hand. With a gentle and caring touch, she took the cloth and wiped the moisture and sick from around his mouth and chin.

Mary Ann dropped the soiled wash cloth unceremoniously on the ground beside the puke. Then she brought the water back to the youngest Castaway. Only this time, she did things a little different. Before she allowed him the chance to drink, she instructed him to drink slowly and in small amounts or else he would get sick again.

The former Navy sailor calmly agreed, and the water flowed past his parted lips a few seconds later. Unlike the last two times he drank, he took tiny sips of the clear liquid, being careful not to overload his empty abdomen and have a recurrence of what had just happened. Luckily, he didn't lose any more water.

"Now," the Kansas girl began, slowly lowering Gilligan's head back down on the pillow before placing the canteen near the backpack. "This is what I'm going to do, Gilligan. I'm going to stop the bleeding in your left arm by wrapping a cloth around the wound tightly. The blood seems to be slowing down some, but you have already lost a great deal more than you should just from your abdomen. At this point, you can afford to lose anymore. When I'm finished with that, I'm going to stop the bleeding on your stomach with another cloth. Unfortunately, I will have to put pressure on the wound, so you will be feeling some pain in that area. I'm sorry. I know you're already in a lot of pain right now, Gilligan."

The first mate shifted his head, locking anguish-filled eyes with hers. Shock waves of agony ran up and down the length of his broken, left leg. "I….understand, Mary…Ann. I know….you…don't…want to…cause…any more….pain…for me. But…I know….there will be…some more…when you…put…pressure…on my…wounds. You have…to…so do it! Don't worry…about…causing me…more pain. Just…do…what…you…have…to...do."

The Kansas girl nodded her head, lightly squeezing the young sailor's hand in reassurance, knowing that he would have to experience more pain in a moment and wishing with all of her heart that she could take his suffering away completely. But they didn't have a choice. If she didn't stop the bleeding from his wounds, he could bleed to death. Actually, it was a miracle he hasn't died from that fate yet.

"Okay," Mary Ann replied, quickly grabbing another white cloth. She bent over the injured Castaway's form, and swiftly tied the gauze around his limb, making sure it was tight enough. Hearing her best friend protesting in pain from the appropriate pressure was a sure sight that she had the gauze correctly secure to his injured extremity.

Anxious brown eyes never left the former Navy sailor's face as she moved her small figure to be at the same level as his mid-section. The farm girl leaned over him, hands traveling to the hem of his polo red shirt. She grasped the bottom of his blood-stained shirt and gently shifted the fabric up his abdomen. However, it wouldn't budge since the dry blood was keeping the material glued to his skin. She tried tugged lightly again and again and again, finally managing to free the shirt from his flesh on the fourth try.

The brunette twisted away from Gilligan, reaching out a blood-spotted hand for the white cloth in the bag. Pulling the item out, she turned back to her best friend, crimson seen lightly dotting the white of the fabric in her grip. She placed the material over the large wound on his abdomen, instantly seeing the cloth soaking up the fluid like a sponge, causing the white to turn a dark shade of red.

Shifting her gaze from the first mate's stomach, Mary Ann's eyes traveled up to his face. "Are you ready, Gilligan?"

The sailor's forehead had formed creases, his face twisted up in inconceivable agony as his eyes shut tightly against the pain. His breaths were shallow and labored. When he muttered out a "yeah…do it, Mary…Ann," through gritted teeth, she could identify the hoarseness in his voice.

The Kansas girl nodded her head in acknowledgement, even though her best friend didn't see it since he still had his eyes closed. "Okay, here I go," she warned him verbally. Instantly, she noticed how tense and rigid his whole figure became after she finished that last statement. The youngest Castaway was bracing himself for another assault of excruciating agony which would inevitably come his way.

Immediately, the farm girl leaned further over the former Navy sailor's body, bearing her entire weight on her arms and palms. The once large white cloth, which was now steadily becoming redder, was trapped between the large gap in Gilligan's abdomen and Mary Ann's tanned hands. She pressed down firmly on her hand.

"Agh!" he hissed out between his clenched teeth.

Mary Ann's eyes wandered away from what she was doing to her best friend's pain-filled and sweaty face. "Sorry, Gilligan," she muttered, not sure he could hear her as he became lost in the world of agony. "I'm _so_ sorry."

By now, the shade of white was nowhere in sight, the cloth totally soaked through with the red fluid. The fabric wasn't the only thing coming into contact with the blood. The brunette's hands were now immersed in the fluid and her pants legs were drenched, the olive brown of her jeans giving away to the overpowering red.

With only one blood-stained hand holding the cloth in place, the Kansas girl shifted the other away, reaching out for another large cloth. She quickly switched the items, tossing the sopping one off to the side like she did with the throw up cloth. Like the first time she did this, the second cloth too became soaked in red fluid in a matter of minutes. Not a hint of white remained on the material. It was like the first color didn't even exist.

The blood kept coming and coming, forcing the farm girl to realize in horror that the fluid may never stop. That despite her best efforts, Gilligan would bleed to death whether she was there helping or not. It seemed to her that she was on the losing side of the battle.

Her eyes burned with hot tears at the thought of losing her best friend while in the middle of trying to save his life. As the tears trickled down the brunette's face, she didn't wipe them away, refusing adamantly to shift her hands away from the life-threatening wound until the bleeding stopped for good.

While the tears dripped from her chin and jaw, splashing onto her hands and the new white cloth, Mary Ann mentally sent out a fervor prayer to anyone that would listen to her. She prayed with every fiber of her being that her best friend would be spared just this once from certain death, for she knew her and the rest of the Castaways would never survive should they lose the first mate. He was the one that made them laugh and kept their spirits up, even after a failed rescue attempt. He was the glue that kept them all together and working as a team. In short, they needed him or all hope would be lost to them forever.

"Mary Ann," Gilligan whispered, his breathing becoming shallower than before.

The Kansas girl looked up, her head turning to the left to bring the sailor's face in her sight. If it was possible, her best friend appeared to be paler than the last time she looked, the skin turning a scary shade of whitish-grey. With the rapid decline of his health, the farm girl knew she and the others only had a matter of minutes before the youngest Castaway would be lost, so far gone that nothing would be able to reach him and bring him back to the six Castaways.

"Yes, Gilligan," Mary Ann replied, a slight crack of emotion surfacing in her voice. Her gaze traveled from his sickly features and close eyelids to his abdomen, refocusing on the ongoing task in front of her for the past several minutes. Changing cloths and putting pressure on his wound wasn't the only reason she turned her head. She didn't want him to see the devastation in her eyes nor the tears as they fell. She didn't want him to see her falling apart. She needed to be strong, for him. "What is it?"

"Go," he simply said, eyes still shut tightly.

"What?" The brunette asked, startled. She paused in the middle of switching cloths to look at the former Navy sailor. His eyes were open again and in those calm and loving ocean-blue depths was strong determination, an intense emotion that she hadn't see since she arrived on the ledge.

"Leave," Gilligan repeated forcefully. "Take the…recorder…and go. I…don't…want…you…to…see…me…"

"What recorder, Gilligan? And I…I don't understand. What do you mean, 'you don't want me to see?' See what?"

"To see…me…die," the first mate said as matter-of-factly, locking his eyes with hers in an attempt to make her understand his reason for leaving him.

"What! No," Mary Ann shook her head in denial. "No, Gilligan! No…" But she never got the chance to finish her sentence because he cut her off.

"Yes, Mary…Ann! Yes! Don't lie…to me. I…know…I'm dying. I can…feel it," the sailor paused, staring at her while ignoring the trails of tears on her tan cheeks. "I want…you…to leave me. Take…the r-recorder…at my…left side…and go. Listen to…it…with…the….others. I…l-l-left…you…all…a…f-few…m-m-messages…on…it."

The Kansas girl shook her head back and forth as more hot tears ran down her cheeks. "No! No! No," she repeated over and over again frantically. She had mostly given up on the strong act a while ago, but right then and there, she gave it up entirely. She denied adamantly that she was beginning to lose the youngest Castaway as she hurriedly switched the cloths and put pressure on his midsection again, ignoring the soft hiss of pain. "Gilligan, _you_ can't _die_! You _can't_ leave _us_! You can't leave _me!_ I want you to keep fighting, okay? Help should arrive any minute now and then you will be alright. _Oh_, Gilligan! I know you want to stop, to give up. You're exhausted. You have been fighting for your life for _hours_ now, and I want you to know I'm proud of you for that, but you can't go. You're not allowed to leave us! This…this isn't how it's supposed to end!"

"Good bye…Mary…Ann. I…will…miss…you…along…with…the…others," he whispered, beginning to close his eyes for the last time.

"Gilligan! No!" She shouted while crying her heart out. She was about to shake him, to keep him awake when she heard a tenor voice from above them.

"Gilligan? Mary Ann?" The voice called out to them.

Mary Ann looked up at the newcomer she saw standing between the Howells at the edge of the cliff. "Hurry, Professor! We're losing him!"

* * *

**A/N: **You know what to do. Review and tell me what you thought of this chapter.

If you have a craving for more Gilligan's Island stories, please check out my new Gilligan's Island community where I housed sixty-one stories of Gilligan being the star of the show.


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